


Thunderpetal

by Flexor



Category: Warcraft, World of Warcraft
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Bloody foreigners, Childbirth, F/M, Food and drink, Gen, Gnomes, Humans, Pandaren - Freeform, culture clash, tauren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 84,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flexor/pseuds/Flexor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a Pandaren monk in Stormwind, a tale of good food, bad company, violence and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promenade

A hot-air balloon gently drifted over the waves, carried by a gentle breeze from the West. In the basket hanging under it sat a monk, his eyes closed in meditation. The monk's name, as closely translated as possible, was Thunderpetal. He and his fellow travellers had been flying the skies of Azeroth for over two months now, but Thunderpetal never lost patience. For a monk, a cook and a brewer of marvellous brews, patience is not simply a virtue, it is a way of life. Thunderpetal was used to waiting for things: for the noodles to cook, the beer to ferment, and in this case, for the hot air balloon to make its way to the city of Stormwind, home of many strange and wonderful creatures.

The breeze blew gently through Thunderpetal's black-and-white fur, and the balloon moved a bit quicker. Thunderpetal noticed an itch in his neck. He allowed the itch to enter his consciousness, experienced it, studied it. When he thought he had felt the itch in all its aspects, and couldn't learn any more by meditating upon it, he opened his eyes, raised a claw and scratched. Aysa Cloudsinger, their leader, pulled one of the ropes that opened the balloon at the top and pointed.

"Stormwind," she said. "City of the Chiu-man."

Thunderpetal bowed his large bear-like head, and said nothing. He didn't know the Chiu-man, who lived in that stone city. Teacher Aysa had told him what she knew, which was not much. All they knew was that they belonged to the Alliance, and were friends. Friends they hadn't met yet, friends who might not know that they were friends, but friends nonetheless.

Thunderpetal was a Panda-ren, one of the people of Pandaria. He was large, bear-like, with a black and white pattern to his fur. His eyes, dark, and hidden in the dark patches of fur round them, looked upon Stormwind for the first time. Thick stone walls rose out of the ocean, dotted with watch towers. Thunderpetal was a long, long way from home.

Back at home, on the continent of Pandaria, things were not well. For centuries, it had been a peaceful place until now, for unknown reasons, malevolent spirits had possessed usually friendly creatures and driven them to attack the Panda-ren. Thunderpetal had been forced to fight them. They were now at peace again, but unfortunately, they were also dead. In the fight, Thunderpetal, usually a placid young Pandaren, had shown a fierce anger that hadn't gone away once the threat of the Virmen had disappeared. His father had sent him to the temple of the Jade Serpent, to find that his Self had been invaded by an anger that would eventually destroy him. Searching for a cure had finally led him to meet Aysa Cloudsinger, and join the Alliance.

 

Aysa Cloudsinger put out the flame under the balloon, and it started to descend quietly. She was making for a small island at the edge of the lands, where Thunderpetal could see a few Panda-ren tents. They were not the first to arrive here. At Teacher Aysa's command, he threw out the anchor, and as the air in the balloon cooled, it settled on the grass. Another one of his companions jumped out of the basket, drove stakes into the earth and fastened the balloon to it before it could fly off again. Aysa Cloudsinger opened her small shrine, lit a few sticks of incense, then offered a small prayer of thanks to the winds for carrying them safely to this place. She jumped over the edge of the basket and landed solidly on her feet. She bent down, picked a few blades of grass, rubbed them between her fingers and watched them fly away on the breeze. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, taking in the scents of Stormwind.

"This is a good land," she said. "But it has seen trouble, only a short while ago. And we know absolutely nothing about it."

Thunderpetal and the other monks nodded their heads quietly. They looked round. The island they had landed on was covered with grass. A few Panda-ren had established a camp, and a few riding turtles slowly chewed on the grass, or swam in the sea. To the East, they could see a circle of standing stones, and what looked like a piece of armour hanging from a wooden frame. As they were still collecting themselves, there was movement, and one of the Chiu-man stepped out of a boat, and walked up to them. He unrolled a piece of paper and spoke a few words that were almost entirely unlike Aysa Cloudsinger's name. She looked up.

"The Chiu-man knew we were coming," said Aysa, stepping forward. She walked up to the man and bowed to him. "I am Aysa Cloudsinger," she said.

The Chiu-man nodded at her, then spoke slowly and loudly in his own language. Aysa gave him a wavering smile and put up her hands.

"Bo-tu", said the man. "Hiu Ko-mu Bo-tu, Va-Lian." He gestured towards the small rowing boat he had arrived in.

One of the other monks drew up to her. "I believe he wishes you to come with him, Teacher."

"I believe you are right, Huang," said Aysa. "Well, it would be rude to refuse."

"You should not go alone, Teacher," said Huang. "We do not know if we can trust these Chiu-man."

Aysa's eyes gleamed at Huang. "Then you come with me, and defend me from the Alliance." She looked round. "Thunderpetal can come as well, so he can defend you."

"Yes, Teacher," said Thunderpetal.

 

With some careful balancing and the three Panda-ren sitting very still, they managed to cross the water without having to swim for it. Their guide had brought them to the gates of the Emperor's palace, where an enormous statue of a sword-fighter looked down on them. Aysa stood still for a moment, looking up.

"The Chiu-man have been at war for a long time," she said, to no-one in particular.

"It is a recent work," said Huang, who back on Pandaria had been a stonemason. "They use granite, which is not as lustrous as jade, but will allow them to make larger statues. The Chiu-man must like size and strength above all things."

Aysa nodded quietly. "The Jade Serpent was larger than this, but still, it's lying on the ground in pieces."

Their guide had noticed they had stopped, and pointed his hand at the statue. "Va-lian Wu-lin," he said. Then he gestured them to follow, and they walked into the palace. They were led down a long hallway paved with marble, into the Emperor's hall. Their guide bowed to the Emperor, mispronounced Aysa Cloudsinger's name and left.

The Emperor gave Aysa a strange look, then walked over to her. Aysa bowed deep. Thunderpetal and Huang did the same.

"Greetings, Emperor Va-lian," said Aysa. "From Pandaria and the Wandering Isle we come to offer our friendship."

The Emperor looked over his shoulder and shouted a name. One of the Emperor's servants came rushing up. The Emperor pointed at Aysa Cloudsinger and her companions and asked a question. The servant cleared his throat and turned to Aysa Cloudsinger.

"I am pleased to introduce to you King Va-lian. We have news of your coming to Stormwind. We welcome you as honoured guests."

Aysa turned to King Varian. As she spoke, the aide translated in a low whisper. "We, the people of Pandaria, thank you for your welcome. We are in your debt for the assistance the people under your command gave us on the Wandering Isle, and we place ourselves at your service."

The King looked at Aysa with an incredulous grin, and spoke. The translator took a long breath, staring into space.

"The King wishes to know how..." he hesitated, struggling on the translation. "People such as you, can be of service to the Alliance."

Aysa Cloudsinger bowed her head. "If it pleases the King, we Panda-ren have long studied the ways of Earth and Water, which we call the Tushui. We believe we share with the Alliance the belief in the moral certainty of this world, that the values of Right and Wrong are universal, and that we must always act accordingly, even at great sacrifice."

There was a brief pause as the translator repeated this in Common. The King spoke, impatience quite clear in his voice. The translator turned to Aysa once more.

"The King would be pleased to learn how your... discipline aids the Alliance in a... military sense."

Thunderpetal looked at Aysa Cloudsinger. During the voyage from the Wandering Isle to Stormwind, she had been a constant source of optimism, showing an indestructible faith in the outcome of their journey. Her face had always reflected her good humour and sense of wonder and beauty, except on the very few occasions where she honestly could not see the way forward. At those times, it became as still and quiet as when she was meditating, turning her sight and mind in on itself. Never had she allowed doubt or fear to show. But Thunderpetal could see now that she was keeping her feelings from showing, and that told him enough.

"During the course of our lives," said Aysa, "It often becomes necessary to assert ourselves against influences that must not be. We are not without enemies. Troubled spirits often prey upon us, and we have had to defend ourselves against them, or in some cases the path of righteousness dictates that we end them." Aysa looked up at King Varian. "We can fight."

"How?" asked the translator, giving up on coming up with diplomatic translations.

"We have warriors," said Aysa, "Mages. Hunters. Healers. We have a well-disciplined army. We are no strangers to the crafts of war. My companions are monks of the Temple of the Jade Serpent. Huang here is a Mistweaver, a healer. Thunderpetal is a Brewmaster."

There was a pause as the translator relayed this information to the King. He asked the translator to repeat the last few words, then shot Aysa a glance, spoke a short sentence, then walked away.

"The King invites you to walk with him," said the translator.

 

And so they walked. Out of the throne room, down a hallway to the right, and into a secluded garden. The King walked to the middle of the garden, then turned round to Aysa. He drew his sword.

"The King wishes to see your fighting style, you who use beer to fuel your courage."

The King spoke a few more words.

"Either one, or three at a time."

Huang bowed his head to Aysa. "Teacher... if you will permit me, I will..."

"No, Huang," said Aysa. "Your offer is brave, but I cannot allow it." Aysa turned to Thunderpetal. "My friend, I can't fight this King. If I win, he will see me as a rival, not an ally. If I let him win, then I will lose his respect and the Panda-ren will never truly enter the Alliance. Can you show this King we can fight?"

Thunderpetal looked at the King, who stood a few yards away with a mocking grin on his face. His large sword was in his hand.

"Yes, Teacher," said Thunderpetal.

"Thank you," said Aysa. "I am sorry to ask this of you." She looked over her shoulder at the King. "This Chiu-man will fight very aggressively. Also, he practices with sharp blades." The disapproval was clear in Aysa's voice. In the Shang Xi training grounds, all practice was done with blunt weapons. The technique was the same, and using sharp weapons only led to people being hurt unnecessarily. Aysa looked into Thunderpetal's eyes.

"Assume the Stance of the Sturdy Ox. Use the Laoshan brew for agility." Aysa closed her eyes a moment, then looked at Thunderpetal. "Do not embarrass us, my friend."

"I will not, Teacher Cloudsinger."

 

Thunderpetal opened his pack, and selected one of the green earthenware bottles. The label showed the sign of a pagoda, surrounded by reeds. A river ran past it. Thunderpetal flipped out the cork with his thumb, raised the bottle to the King, then drank it. He wiped his mouth on his fur, and put the empty bottle back in his pack. He left his pack sitting on the floor, and stepped forward, bambu staff in hand. Holding his staff behind his back, he bowed to the King, then readied himself. The king spoke a few words, then lowered his sword and with his left hand gestured Thunderpetal to attack.

Thunderpetal's eyes narrowed, studying the King's stance. Then, his staff shot forward, trying to strike the King's arm. The King blocked, counter-attacked. Thunderpetal moved out of the way, stabbed out with his staff. The King swung his large sword round in a great arc, meaning to cut Thunderpetal in half, but Thunderpetal caught the blade with the low end of his staff and pushed it up over his head. Then, with a shout, he jabbed out at the King again. The King twisted his body out of the way, turned round with the momentum of his stroke, and slashed upwards. Thunderpetal deflected the stroke, and counter-attacked with the top end of his staff. The King sprang backwards, raised his sword and grinned at Thunderpetal.

The King sprang forward again, sword slashing round. Thunderpetal dodged, stabbed out again. With every move, he felt his Chi grow. Chi. There were many clumsy translations for the word: life-force, focus. None of those words did justice to the concept. Chi was... Chi, and it made your punches hit harder than could be explained by the simple action of muscle and bone. It was what enabled fighters to break thick planks, or blocks of stone, using only their fists. Thunderpetal and the King exchanged more blows, until finally, Thunderpetal swept his staff round low, at ankle level. The King leapt up high to avoid it. Thunderpetal saw his chance. Moving with the momentum of his sweep, he turned round on one foot and his left hand, palm out, shot forward with all of Thunderpetal's strength, Chi, and his not inconsiderable weight behind it. He caught the King in the middle of the chest, lifted him off the ground and flung him back a dozen feet. The King landed on the Royal Posterior, and looked up at Thunderpetal for a few moments, jaw agape.

Several guards sprang forward, hands on the hilts of their swords, but the King waved them away. He raised his sword, stuck it in the grass and burst out laughing. Thunderpetal stood up straight, held his staff behind his back and bowed. The King held out a hand to Thunderpetal. Thunderpetal pulled him to his feet, and the King spoke a few words.

"Well done... round person covered in fur," supplied the translator.

Thunderpetal looked round to Aysa Cloudsinger, just in time to see the grin disappear from her face. She stuck her nose in the air.

"Well done, my Student," she said. "Your mastery of the Tiger Palm is progressing satisfactorily."

"Thank you, Teacher," said Thunderpetal, bowing to her.

 

The King stepped up to Aysa.

"Thank you, Cloudsinger," said the translator. "That was most enjoyable."

"May it please you, King Va-lian," said Aysa.

King Varian nodded, and started to speak at some length, with the translator supplying the words.

"We have heard of your kind, Mistress Cloudsinger, and of your wish to join our Alliance. We know, however, that not all of your kind have chosen to. Many have joined the Horde. The Horde are our mortal enemies, who would wipe us all off the face of Azeroth if they could. Should you join us, then the Horde, and those of your kind who have chosen to join them, will be your mortal enemies."

Aysa bowed her head with a serious expression on her face. "We know and accept that, King Va-lian."

"When the time comes, you may come to face others of your kind. People you may know. People you may have loved. Your loyalty, from the moment you join us, will be with the Alliance, and you will be called upon to strike them down. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, King Va-lian," said Aysa.

"Good. Please return to your camp. I will send word to you when I need you."

"As you wish."

Aysa, Huang and Thunderpetal were walking back to their balloon. The evening was clear and crisp, and the sky stretched out above them in fiery red. Huang looked up at Aysa.

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Huang?"

"Several of my cousins have joined the Horde. I watched them grow up from a cub, giving them rides on my knee. When I meet them again, they will try to kill me, and I them."

"May that day never come, Huang, but when it does, then be ready."

"You have friends who have joined the Horde, have you not?"

"I have," said Aysa.

"Master Ji Firepaw has joined the Horde," said Thunderpetal.

"Irresponsible fool," said Aysa. "He almost killed the Great Turtle."

Despite her words, there was a soft look in her eyes, and a little smile on her face.

"He told me he admired the perfection of your form," said Thunderpetal.

"Did he now?" Aysa smiled.

"When the time comes," said Thunderpetal, "Could you fight him? Kill him?"

Aysa looked round to Thunderpetal.

"Do you mean, would I be able to, or could I bring myself to?"

Thunderpetal looked away for a moment. He had no family in these lands, only in Pandaria, and his father was unlikely to join either Alliance or Horde.

"Both," he said.

Aysa's face hardened. "Yes, and yes," she said. "I pray that I won't have to, but if the Path demands it of me, I will."

 

They walked on quietly, borrowed a boat from a Human, and walked back to their balloon, still floating a few dozen yards above the ground. Its ropes hung slack. While they were away, the others had put up a few more tents, and built a campfire. Dinner was being prepared and a divine smell of sweet and sour pork drifted across the island. They sat in a circle round the fire, and ate their first dinner as members of the Alliance, with a surprising amount of noise. Aysa stood up, and tapped her chopsticks on her bowl for attention.

"My companions," she said, "From this hour forward, we are members of the Alliance. We have new friends, but also new enemies. We know little about our friends, and next to nothing of our enemies. It is said, 'Know your enemy, and know yourself, and in a hundred battles, you will never be in danger'. Meditate upon this truth before sleep. That which we do not know, will not hurt us." Aysa frowned. "It will kill us. Therefore, my friends, it will be your duty to go out into these lands, and learn what you can of its people, their hopes, their fears, their strengths, their weaknesses. Then report back to me, and I will make sure that we all drink deep of the knowledge you have gathered."

Thunderpetal had put away his bowl and chopsticks, and helped clean up the dinner things. He found he could not yet go to sleep, so he might as well take a walk. It would help digestion, help him sleep, and allow him to start finding out about this place. He walked the streets of Stormwind. Lights were on everywhere, and people went about their business as though the Sun had never set. Did the Chiu-man need no sleep? He came to a part of the city that had been destroyed in a great fire, or explosion. Only ruins still remained of what looked like an old barracks , the roof fallen down. The enemies of the Alliance must be strong if they could wreak this kind of destruction.

As he turned round, his ears picked up a strange noise, a low moaning, as of a creature in pain. Thunderpetal pointed his ears forward, straining himself to see where the noise came from. Then, in the last light of the evening, he saw it: a lighter spot in the shadows of the old barracks. He jumped down a small hill and walked to the place where a woman of the Chiu-man lay on the ground. Her clothes were torn open, but Thunderpetal could see no wounds on her half-bare chest, nor on her legs, as far as he could see, which was about half-way up her thighs. He opened his mouth to ask if the woman was alright, but even if she could understand Pandaren, it would be a stupid question. He walked up to the woman and kneeled by her, looking at her carefully. Her face, pale and hairless, looked dirty, but unhurt. Soft painful noises came from her lips.

"Help me..."

Her eyelids fluttered, and she turned her face up to Thunderpetal. As she saw him, her eyes opened wide. Her chest rose suddenly with her breath, and she screamed loudly, pushed herself up on her arms and legs and skittered backwards, away from him. Thunderpetal frowned. How could this Chiu-man have recovered so quickly? He did not have long to think about that. There was a loud snap, a sudden pain in the back of his head, and then the lights went out.


	2. Gnomus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who’ve read "Selena and the Wolf" over at the Redridge Chronicles, and are wondering how Interalia is doing: She’s fine, given the circumstances. Yes, it’s the Steambenders and they’re still going strong. Here, the youngest member of the family is being given a few life lessons.

Night covered the city of Stormwind like a blanket when Nix Steambender walked home after his training at SI:7's unofficial school of Stealth, Subterfuge, and Dirty Tricks. He was taking the long way home, and more or less treating the city as his own private obstacle course. The bit along the new shoreline, where the park used to be before Deathwing blasted it out of existence, was particularly challenging because there were no guards there, and plenty of thieves, cutthroats and other varied Human scum. Nix had nothing against Humans personally, some of his best customers were Humans, but they tended to look down on him for no better reason than that he was about three foot six high. Average height for a Gnome, but from the Humans' perspective he was a little runt. That was fine by Nix. From Nix' perspective, most Humans were lumbering dull-witted individuals that were as likely ever to catch or even see him as your average slime mould.

Nix ducked into an alley, and climbed up on a roof. He ran along, keeping himself below the top of the roof, of course. It was one of his favourite routes, with a neat little jump at the end into one of the rooms in the old barracks that had had its wall removed by a Dragon Aspect. That was always a bit of a calculated risk, because chances were that members of Stormwind's Thieves' Guild hung out there. Today, the room was empty, so Nix took a good run-up and landed on the stone floor. Usually, his girlfr... _wife_ , Interalia would race him on this bit, but she was not in any shape to race much at the moment, being rather heavily pregnant. She was at home, no doubt trying to open his latest creation: Unpickable Lock Mark Twenty-seven. So far, Interalia had managed to pick all the ones from Mark One till Mark Twenty-six. This one had her stumped for almost two days now, which was a new record. Nix had no qualms about selling any lock that took Interalia more than half an hour to open. She was an _awesome_ picker of locks.

Just as Nix got ready to move again, he heard a woman screaming somewhere behind him. He turned round, all warm and fuzzy thoughts flushed from his mind in an instant. Women screaming were, sadly, not uncommon in this part of town. Neither, for that matter, were men. Nix turned round, moving towards the noise. Somewhere near the street, there was some kind of commotion going on. Nix ran up while checking his daggers, to see if he could do anything. On this occasion, though, it appeared that the screaming woman was not the victim. There were about five Humans standing over the lifeless body of... Nix squinted into the dark. Some kind of _bear_. That would mean a hunting party, but first, bears did not normally venture into Stormwind, and second, they did not wear clothes. That, at least was something that was being worked on, because two of the thugs were busy taking the clothes off the bear, while the woman stood by, pulling her shirt shut tight, complaining bitterly.

Nix sighed. Five of them. Too bloody many for him to take on, and since the bear-person was probably dead already, there was no sense in trying. As Nix watched, the thugs took from the bear what they wanted, and disappeared into the night, telling the woman to shut up already. When they had gone, Nix made his way to the bear-person. He looked round carefully, because to be jumped now by another band of thugs would be embarrassing. With the coast clear, Nix bent over the still body.

"Hey, you! Are you alive?"

The bear was lying on its stomach. The fur on the back of its head was bloody, and a trickle of blood still ran out. There was a sudden snort of breath, and the bear jerked its head up, then groaned. Sudden movements were apparently not a good idea. Moving very carefully, it rolled onto its back, then slowly sat up, making anguished noises. Even from a sitting position, it looked down on Nix, or rather on something that seemed to be floating round his head.

"Whoa! Easy now," said Nix. "You're lucky to be alive. To be honest, I thought the orphans were going to have you for dinner tonight."

The bear shut his eyes tight, then seemed to focus on Nix.

"Honestly friend. You should know better than to stroll around here at night. Thieves here are as thick as thieves."

The bear looked at Nix, and said nothing. He carefully put a claw to the back of his head, and looked at the blood on it.

"Yeah, that's your own fault. Oldest trick in the book! Get a girl, take most of her clothes off, and have her flash a little tit and thigh at passing heroes. So the blood flows from between their ears to between their legs, and they go all Oh Here's A Woman I Must Save Her Wonder How She'll Reward Me, and then her boyfriends jump him. Thing is, you don't seem the type to fancy Human chicks. So what gives?"

The bear put its head in its hands, and groaned. Nix looked into the bear's eyes.

"You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?" He slapped his hand on his chest. "Nix."

The bear put his hand on his own chest, and rumbled a few words.

"Eh?"

The bear pointed at Nix. "Ni-chi." He pointed at himself, and repeated his name.

Nix tried to repeat the bear's name. The bear corrected him. Nix shook his head.

"Come on, fuzzball. I suppose you'd better come home with me, to get your head seen to."

"Fuz-ball," said the bear, and made a noise almost like laughing.

He slowly got to his feet, and looked round. With a satisfied "Ah", he noticed his staff lying on the ground a little way off. He picked it up. The thugs had rummaged through his bag, taken what little coins it had inside, then thrown it away. He slung it on his back.

"Come on, let's go," said Nix. "They're not going to believe what I've found this time." 

* * *

Thunderpetal followed the little man called Ni-chi along the streets to a place near the harbour of Stormwind. They walked up to one of the doors, and Ni-chi made him wait a moment as he went in. For a moment, Thunderpetal wondered how he was going to squeeze through such a tiny door, but then there was the sound of a rattling chain and the whole of the wall rose up and back. Ni-chi waved him inside, then lowered the wall again by means of a complicated pulley system.

Another small person entered the hallway, though "small" was perhaps the wrong word. She walked rather uncomfortably on account of her enormous belly. She took one look at Thunderpetal and asked Ni-chi a question. Ni-chi grinned.

"N'tu-la-lia?" He pointed a hand at Thunderpetal, then hesitated.

Thunderpetal spoke his name. N'tu-la-lia tried to repeat it, but failed. Thunderpetal grinned.

"Fuz-ball," he said. It was the name bestowed on him by the King himself, so who was he to argue, even if it did mean "Round Furry Person"? It was accurate enough.

N'tu-la-lia laughed. "Fuzzball."

She turned to Ni-chi and asked him something. Whatever it was she said, it made him slap his forehead and start explaining. N'tu-la-lia looked at Thunderpetal's head, walked out of the room and came back a few moments later with a roll of bandage, a bowl of water and a clean cloth.

"Eh Fuzzball?" She gestured him to bend down, and cleaned the wound. Then, she neatly wrapped up Thunderpetal's head. Something told him that she'd done this before. N'tu-la-lia inspected her handiwork, then told Thunderpetal that that'd have to do.

Meanwhile, Ni-chi had wandered off into another room, and unlatched the side of the door, widening it so Thunderpetal could enter. It turned out to be a warm and cosy living room. N'tu-la-lia asked Ni-chi a question, pointing at the door. He answered it with a grin and N'tu-lalia slapped the back of his head. At Ni-chi's gesture, Thunderpetal went down on all fours, walked in and stopped. The furniture wasn't large enough. N'tu-la-lia noticed, then pointed into another room and gave Ni-chi a quick order. He walked off, to return a few moments later pulling a mattress behind him. Thunderpetal bowed to Ni-chi then sat down on it. N'tu-la-lia walked to a chair, and Thunderpetal could see that it was difficult for her to walk. She must be near her term. Teacher Cloudsinger _had_ ordered him to find out about the people of Stormwind. He would be grateful if one of the first items of information would not be their birth-giving rituals. The woman sat down, arranged pillows and wriggled a bit to get comfortable. Then, she pointed at Ni-chi.

" _Ti_ , _Bi-chu_." she said.

Ni-chi walked backwards out of the room, bowing to N'tu-la-lia, mumbling. A few moments later, the smell of tea drifted into the room. 

* * *

Four Gnomes were walking along the streets, on their way home. Two were wearing wizardly robes, one was wearing full plate armour, and the fourth was sitting on the back of the warrior girl. She was wearing a dark blue dress with white daisies on.

"Lenna?" said the young girl. Her tone was thoughtful, which usually meant a seemingly simple question was under way.

"Yes?"

"When is Spud going to come out?"

"We don't know for sure, dear," said Lenna. "Maybe a week, maybe two."

"And then can I play with her?"

"Or him," said Griggin. "We don't know if Spud is a boy or a girl."

"Why not?"

"Because we can't look inside Interalia's tummy," said Lenna.

"Why is Spud inside Interalia's tummy?"

The warrior girl, named Trixie, took a little jump to hoist Bieslook higher up. "We talked about the Special Cuddle, didn't we?"

"Trixie..." said Lenna.

"But if we'd just put Spud in a little bed, then we could see whether she's a boy or a girl, and buy her dolls."

"Oh yeah," said Trixie. "I _loved_ playing with dolls. Did you know that the left head of the Little Ogre fits on the Jaina dolls?"

"And vice versa," said Griggin. It had been mildly disturbing to see the angelically beautiful blonde head of Jaina Proudmoore smile at them from the shoulders of a fat-bellied Ogre wielding a club. They had got her a Metal Construction Kit, which Trixie had used to make two swords, an axe and a shield.

As they came to their home, Trixie let Bieslook slide off her back and Lenna opened the door. She shouted inside.

"Right kids! Stop whatever you're doing, the parents are back!"

Lenna hung up her robe on the peg, put her staff in the stand and walked into the living room.

"Oo! Is that tea I smell? Well trained, Interalia. I could never..."

Lenna stopped. Sitting on one of the spare mattresses in her living room was a large black-and-white bear, with its head neatly wrapped up in linen. As it saw her, it grabbed its fist with its other hand, and bowed its head at her, rumbling a few words at her in a language she could not understand. Lenna smiled politely, then turned her eyes to Nix, who was sitting at the table.

"Found him in the park," said Nix. "He'd bumped his head on a bunch of robbers, so I took him home for bandages and a cuppa. I still didn't catch his name, but he answers to 'Fuzzball'."

" _Fuzzball_?" Lenna looked accusingly at Interalia, who never used anyone's real name if she could help it. 'Mama Fwoosh' had been banned under threat of fireballs at dawn. Interalia put on her innocent face.

" _What_?"

Trixie came walking in, busy with her own thoughts, and was half way to her room to get out of her armour before she noticed Thunderpetal sitting there like a giant black-and-white elephant in the room.

"What the hell is _that_?"

Griggin, having inferred from the noise that something was up, walked in, nodded at Thunderpetal.

"I believe that this gentleman is a _Panda-ren_ , one of the mythical inhabitants of Pandaria. Welcome, Sir, to Steambender manor. My name is Griggin, at your service."

Thunderpetal bowed to Griggin.

"Guli-jin, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn."

Griggin nodded. "Welcome to my house, Mr. Léi-shēng Huā-bàn."

Thunderpetal raised his head, surprised. Griggin smiled.

"I have to pronounce Daemons' names correctly, Mr. Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. Pandaren names are easy by comparison. Meaning no disrespect, of course. Most names are."

Interalia snorted. "Showoff."

There was a sudden, delighted, high-pitched squeal as Bieslook came in, and barreled straight into Thunderpetal's round, furry stomach, face aglow.

"It's a fluffy _bear_! Can we keep him, Lenna? I'll feed him!"

Thunderpetal looked at the very very small girl that had her tiny arms round him as far as they would go, and her cheek against the soft fur on his stomach. He very gently patted her head.

Nix got up, walked out of the room for a moment, and came back pulling on his leather jacket.

"Well, now you're all here, I can go and get Interalia her salty herring with pickled gherkins. Forgot all about that in the commotion with Fuzzball here."

Interalia got to her feet, walked over to Nix, grabbed him by his jacket and kissed him. Nix had to bend forward a bit.

"I love you. I'll love you twice as much if you bring me salty herring."

"With chopped onions?"

"Is salty herring really salty herring _without_ onions?"

"A pale shadow of what it could be," said Nix. "Later all!"

Nix walked out, and they heard the door slam. Interalia walked back to her chair, and sat down. She picked up the lockbox, carefully selected one of her lockpicks and started poking in the lock, occasionally giggling to herself. Trixie looked at her.

"What's with you all of a sudden?"

"Nothing."

"Oh come on."

Interalia giggled. "I wuv my hubby. Here I am, size of a bloody whale, likely to keel over if I _walk_ the distance I used to run in a minute, and all _other_ husbands can do is go, 'Ooo you've _never_ been more _bee-yoo-ti-ful_ than you are now, you are _gloooowing_!' But not Nix." 

"No?"

Interalia grinned as though she'd split at the ears. " _He_ gets me someone with a bigger tummy than I have." 

* * *

"What happened to you?" Aysa Cloudsinger pointed at Thunderpetal's head. "Let Huang have a look at that, will you?"

"I was ambushed by _Chiu-man_ by the edge of the water to the West, where the old broken buildings are."

Aysa's face darkened. "You were attacked by the _Alliance_?"

"No, Teacher. These were thieves and ruffians. The _Hozen_ of this city. They surprised me. I was insufficiently prepared."

"Hmm," said Aysa. "Who decorated your head like that?"

"The people native to this city come in three sizes, Teacher. Smallest are the _No-mu_ , who perform feats of mage-craft and mechanics. Of middle size are the _Dor-fu_. They are the best stonemasons and miners this city has to offer. They also have a knowledge of brewing that I am quite interested to investigate."

"The _Dor-fu_ are renowned for their brews," said Aysa. "There is an inn nearby that is run by _Dor-fu_. We should sample their brews, and perhaps offer our help. The tallest, I presume, are the _Chiu-man_?"

"Yes, Teacher. There are also the _Kel-do-lei_ , and _D'len-ai_ , but they are strangers here as we are. One of the _No-mu_ took me into his home and they saw to my injuries."

"That is kind of them," said Aysa. "How do the _no-mu_ live?"

"It is hard to say," said Thunderpetal. "It appears that they live in families not unlike the wolves. My injuries were seen to by the alpha female. Her name, _N'tu-la-lia_ , was longest, and it appears that she is the only one allowed to breed. She is with child."

"Interesting," said Aysa, rubbing her chin. "If you can do so with honour, go to them tomorrow, and see if you can find out more."

"Gladly," said Thunderpetal. "I still need to repay them for healing me."

"You did well, Thunderpetal," said Aysa. "Please write this down, so I can share this knowledge. After you see Huang."

"Yes, Teacher Cloudsinger." 


	3. Promenade II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Griggin is meddling with things better left unmeddled-with. Unless, of course, you know what you’re doing. Meanwhile, Thunderpetal is cooking for the Steambenders.

Trixie Steambender stepped out of her door wearing her plate armour, two-hander strapped to her back. As she shouldered the bag containing the various pieces of hardware a warrior girl needs in a busy day, she looked up to find Fuzzball waiting for her. He bowed to her and rumbled a greeting in his friendly, deep voice.

" _Ni-hao_ , _T'li-chi_."

"Hi Fuzzball. How's the head?"

Fuzzball smiled at her, and nodded. Trixie pointed at his head, then put up her thumb. Fuzzball nodded, and wiggled his fingers at his own head.

"Ah. Seen a healer. Very good. Well, I'm off to training. Strength training on the dummies, and Battle Situation Awareness."

Trixie set off at a trot, and Fuzzball ran along next to her. She looked up at him. For such a... well-rounded person, he had a surprising turn of speed.

"Just in case you've got hopes, I've got a boyfriend." Trixie looked ahead of her. "Now all I need is a boyfriend who's not afraid to tell his daddy to get stuffed," she added, safe in the knowledge that Fuzzball wouldn't understand her.

Thunderpetal spoke a few words back to her. Conversation without communication. A bit like listening to whalesong. Useless, but not unpleasant. In companiable silence, they ran along the streets, into Old Town, up to the gates of Stormwind's military academy. There was a small grassy area where training dummies of various sizes were under attack from Humans, Dwarves, and Gnomes. Ander Germaine, the head trainer for warriors, passed round, making the occasional comment or demonstrating a move. Fuzzball stood still, watching the trainees. Trixie saw Fuzzball move his head left and right with the movements of the warriors, and imagined he was smiling.

"Hey, wanna learn to fight?" Trixie grinned up at Fuzzball. "May do you some good if you run into more of those Human _varknaaiers_. Come on, I'll introduce you to Master Shen."

"Shen?"

"Yeah. Wu Shen. He's our trainer."

"Wu Shen," said Fuzzball, with a new hopeful look in his eyes.

Together, they walked into the building and up the stairs. Trixie put her finger on her lips as they approached the warrior teacher's room. Teacher Germaine was outside, which meant that Ilsa Corbin and Wu Shen were alone in the room. They were well-known to be a couple, though they'd never admitted it to anyone. One of Trixie's class-mates was _certain_ she'd heard _something_ going on. Nobody had ever caught them, though. Trixie held her breath and listened at the door. All she could hear were the voices of Trainer Corbin and Wu Shen discussing something. She knocked, opened the door. Ilsa Corbin smiled at her with a knowing look in her eyes.

"Miss Steambender. What are you doing here? Class doesn't start until nine."

"Wanted to talk to you about the permission slips for voice coaching. For the battle shouts."

"Oh Gods, not another one," said Wu Shen.

Trixie blinked. "I beg your pardon Master Shen?"

"Your furry friend there. If I didn't know better, I'd say we're having an infestation of Panda-ren."

"Oh yes. Master Wu Shen? Meet Fuzzball. That's not his real name, but we can't remember it."

Wu Shen snorted, then spoke to Trixie in the same language as she'd heard Fuzzball use.

"Shen lived in Pandaria for seven years," said Ilsa Corbin. "I never believed him till a week ago when they started to show up. You wanted voice coaching right?"

"Yes Teacher," said Trixie.

"That's going to take a few trips to Sentinel Hill."

"Really?" said Trixie, with big blue innocent eyes. Gosh. Sentinel Hill just happened to be the place where Richard was stationed. Fancy that.

"Yes, really. Let me show you the form." 

 

Thunderpetal looked on as _T'li-chi_ and Master _Il-hsa_ walked to a cupboard and busied themselves with pieces of paper. He bowed to Master Wu Shen. The name meant 'God of War' in Pandaren. Either very presumptuous, or if he'd earned it, impressive.

"Greetings Master Wu Shen. My name is Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. It is good to hear our tongue coming from one of the _Chiu-man_."

"I imagine so," said Wu Shen. "Do you come for the lessons in the Common Speech?"

"No Master Wu Shen," said Thunderpetal. "I am here to learn about the ways of the people. _T'li-chi_ is one of the kind _No-mu_ who look after me when I am ambushed by thieves near the broken buildings to the West."

"Hmm," said Wu Shen. "The old barracks. That's not a nice part of town."

"So I observe, and by this, my wisdom grows." said Thunderpetal.

"Well, learning about our mysterious ways is easier if you speak Common. Do you have forty silver on you?"

"I believe so, Master Wu Shen."

"I can give you some basic knowledge here and now. Enough to buy things from a merchant and some phrases like 'Where is the Inn?' and so on. Forty silver. The spellsmith who prepares it needs his part, or I would give it to you for nothing."

Thunderpetal nodded. He turned round, unbuckled his belt and pulled a gold coin from the secret compartment. About half his money, but it would be worth it if it helped him to understand these people. He handed the coin to Wu Shen.

"Give me your hand," said Wu Shen.

"...talked about this dozens of times before, Trixie. Your father doesn't want you to learn those things. He knows you better than I do, so unless _he_ says yes, you're not getting any fury talents."

Thunderpetal looked round as the incomprehensible noises, without warning, turned into words that he could understand. He bowed to Master Wu Shen.

"Thank you, Master," said Thunderpetal.

Wu Shen handed him sixty silver in change. "Not at all. The translation of your name, by the way, is Thunder-petal. It doesn't come with the standard package, because you can't normally translate names."

"Thunder-petal." He had never thought about translating nis name before. There was thunder. There were flower petals. These things together were not any word, they were... _him_.

"The _No-mu_ will be able to pronounce it," said Wu Shen. "I can see that you are not a sword-fighter, but if you wish to do so, feel free to use our training dummies."

"Thank you, Sir," said Thunderpetal, in Common. The words felt strange upon his tongue.

Trixie looked round at him. "I thought you didn't speak Common!"

Thunderpetal pointed a hand at Wu Shen. "Master Wu Shen teaches me."

"Hmm. I'll tell my folks to speak secrets only in Gnomish then." Trixie grinned evilly. "Except Nix."

"Better not to speak secrets at all," said Thunderpetal. "Or perhaps speak them always. Secrets are like burning embers in the heart that keeps them. Meditate on this."

"Sure," said Trixie. "But first, I've got dummies to beat to bits. Wanna come?"

"I am honoured," said Thunderpetal. 

* * *

In his sub-basement in Stormwind, Griggin Steambender completed the summoning, and the creature projected itself into the here and now. Of late, there had been new kinds of Daemon accessible to Warlocks willing to take the risk. They were found in the Outlands beyond the Dark Portal, but only now had Griggin's Warlock Circle found the right incantations to bind them, and use their powers. One of Griggin's jobs was to see if it was now safe to summon them. Chief Warlock Sindala, despite appearances, did have a sense of humour.

Griggin had summoned the new Daemon into a circle of binding strong enough to hold Illidan Stormrage himself, just in case the answer was 'No'. He watched it. This was a Daemon of Shivarra kind. It had chosen a blue-skinned female body as an Azerothian trapping, but had given it six arms rather than two. It had hissed when he summoned it, found it could not break through the circle, and now looked at Griggin with open hatred.

Griggin concentrated, then cast a spell that transformed his own body into that of a dark, winged Daemon. The experience was, like many dark spells, thoroughly unpleasant, but one of its effects was that he could now speak the Demonic languages without having to concentrate on it.

"Release me," said the Daemon. "And I will kill you quickly for your insolence. Disobey me, you miserable creature, and the suffering of a thousand lifetimes will be yours."

Griggin concentrated. Words of power turned round in his mind. The words became images, of walls, bars of iron, ropes, chains, a sphere of ink-black glass. He infused the images with his mana, willing them into existence round the Daemon's projection.

"Those were the last words you have spoken to me without permission," said Griggin. "From now on, you will speak only to answer me." Griggin stepped closer to the circle. "I am he who has summoned you. From this moment on, until I die, or release you, you will come when called, and do my bidding without fail, without question. Now answer me. Who commands?"

The Daemon screamed in Griggin's mind. With reckless rage, it hurled itself at Griggin's bindings. Some broke immediately, others held out longer. In only a few seconds, all bindings except the dark sphere were gone. The Daemon tried with all its might to break it, to no avail. Then, seeing it was useless, it kneeled before Griggin.

"You command, Master."

"Good," said Griggin. "Now I am done with you, for the moment. Return to your demesne in peace."

The Daemon raised its head, a puzzled look on its face.

"Peace? What is peace? I do not know that word." Its form faded, disappeared into nothing.

Griggin let his Demonic form fall away from him.

"Just my little joke," he said, knowing full well that the concept of a joke was as alien to the Daemon as that of peace. He walked over to a writing table, pulled down one of his journals, and started writing. 

* * *

Trixie focused on the training dummy. She had swapped her two-hander for a broadsword and shield. Her mind calmed itself, and she sprinted forward, struck out, paying close attention to form. With every attack, she felt her rage build, a red ball of fire, somewhere in the pit of her stomach. It was useless to try and explain rage to anyone who didn't follow the school of combat she did. Most people, when you mentioned the word, simply thought that you got angrier and angrier, until the red mist came down and you turned into a mindless killing machine. Wrong, wrong, _wrong_. Telling Mr. Brain to go away in a fight was a sure way to get yourself killed. Rage made you _concentrate_. It made you completely aware of all your moves; burning paths in your mind. It made you forget everything that was not to do with killing your enemy. Trixie slashed out with a cutting downward stroke that would have taken an Orc's arm off. Training dummies were made of sterner stuff. She swung her sword round with vicious speed, and executed a textbook-perfect Mortal Strike, meant to cut open your enemy. A hard over-handed strike followed.

She'd first learnt to appreciate this particular combination of attacks when she and Richard lived in Ironforge, and a band of rogue warlocks had taken Trixie's mother prisoner. It had worked beautifully on the Human bitches and their Voidwalker Daemons. They had won. Nix had freed Mum, while she and Richard kept the Warlocks busy. Mum had burnt the ones that were still upright to a cinder. Trixie bared her teeth, and hit the dummy again, harder this time.

Richard's father, a well-respected fire mage, did not approve of Warlocks. No surprise there. Nobody approved of Warlocks. Trouble was, Mr. Sparkbolt also did not approve of their daughters. So he'd told Richard to drop her, and forget she'd ever existed. When that didn't work, he'd left for Westfall, taking Richard with him. Soon after, there had been the "Steambender's Relaxing Steam Bath Incident", after which Trixie and her family had moved to Stormwind. As it happened, Trixie could get to a place called Goldshire, south of Stormwind, in two to three hours depending on which of their mechanostriders she borrowed. So, as it happened, could Richard. So that was what happened.

Trixie took a few steps back and raised her shield, ducking behind it to reflect incoming magic back at its caster. Then, she leapt forward again, ramming her shield hard into the training dummy. Trixie and Richard had been to Goldshire lots of times. They would meet in the Lion's Pride Inn, go out for long walks in Elwynn Forest, and return to the inn rather out of breath from all the healthy exercise. Which was lovely, but not enough. Trixie wanted the whole package. She wanted to walk with her head up high, and occasionally drop the word 'boyfriend' into conversations. And Richard would promise to talk to his dad, but somehow, at their next meeting, the right moment would not have come up.

Trixie went back to her Mortal Strikes and Overpowering Strikes, throwing in the occasional Heroic Strike (so named because it had been the signature move of Anduin Lothar, hero of renown), and Slam (so named because Warriors are not very subtle creatures). Richard was _not_ a coward. Back in Ironforge, he had followed her into a den of Warlocks without hesitating, knowing full well he might not walk out. Back in Westbrook, he had earned marks in the fight between the Westbrook Garrison and the Defias Brotherhood. He was brave, and kind, and Trixie would be proud to call him her boyfriend. But... Trixie bared her teeth, and hit harder. Why by the thundering, rampaging Titans... The strokes were beginning to jar her arm, which was a bad sign because you weren't hitting the enemy with the sweet spot on your sword. Trixie hit the training dummy even harder, blindly slamming her sword into it. Why didn't the stupid, annoying _git_ tell his father that she was still there? Trixie cried out and hit the training dummy so hard that its head came off, and her sword slipped from her hand.

"Miss _Steambender_!" Ander Germaine came walking up. "Keep your mind on the job. Do you want someone to get hurt?"

Trixie slowly looked round at her head trainer, and truly did not know if the answer was yes, or no. 

 

"You are angry," said Thunderpetal. They were walking from school to the market. Trixie had some food shopping to do.

"Not with you," said Trixie.

"Panda-ren at home are possessed by _Sha_. It makes them sad, tired, angry. To cure them, one must drive out the _Sha_."

"Oh," said Trixie. "How?"

"We have brews," said Thunderpetal. "I know three different ones, for different _Sha_."

"Brews?" Trixie gave Thunderpetal an incredulous look. "Like _beer_?"

"Yes, yes," said Thunderpetal, warming up to his subject. "The _Tsingtao_ brews, for strength and resilience. The _Yanjing_ brews, for concentration and magical power. The _Zhujiang_ , for travelling in spirit to places one cannot walk to."

"Huh. Drinking lots of beer to forget your trouble? Yeah that'll work."

Thunderpetal looked down to Trixie. "You do not need _much_ brew. Just the _right_ brew."

"Don't think it'd help," said Trixie. "Sure, get drunk and the problems go away, but then you sober up and the problems are back, _and_ you have a hangover."

Thunderpetal gave a little laugh. "Use Chou's hair-of-the-dog ale for hangovers. But you have no _Sha_. Something else is wrong."

"Yeah," said Trixie. "Don't want to talk about it."

Thunderpetal nodded. "Another thing. I have a request. To thank you properly for your kindness and help, I would like to cook for you tonight. Would _N'tu-la-lia_ allow it?"

" _Interalia_?" Trixie laughed. "Sure she would. Food! But you want to ask Mum instead."

"Pardon me," said Thunderpetal. "Then _Len-ah_ is the head of your house?"

Trixie had never thought of it that way. Who, come to think of it, _was_ the formal Head of the Family? There were the Grown-ups: Mum and Dad, the Children-who-should-know-better: herself, Nix, and probably Interalia since she was now married to Nix, and the Kids: little Bieslook, and when he or she arrived, Spud.

"Well, for things like cooking, I suppose she is."

Thunderpetal nodded. "Do only the women of the _No-mu_ cook?"

"Naah. The last couple centuries, even our men have learnt the difference between crispy bacon and charcoal. It's just that Mum does most of the cooking. Just ended up that way. I suppose she won't mind a night off."

"Good. Then I search for ingredients."

"No bloody parsnips, I'm warning you." 

* * *

Stormwind was a maze of little streets, and Thunderpetal and Trixie went from one shop to the other. The butcher's, for some duck and chicken. To Trixie's surprise, Thunderpetal insisted on birds with the head and the feet still on, and all the insides still in. Then off to the greengrocer's, for some cabbage's, carrot's, onion's and aubergine's. Finally, they went into a spice shop run by a Gnomish woman. Thunderpetal walked inside. As he breathed in deep, a big smile appeared on his face. While Trixie watched, first with amusement, then with boredom, then with anxious looks at the clock, as Thunderpetal opened _all_ the jars, sniffing them, discussing them with the shop lady, then either putting them back on the shelf or placing them on the counter. Suddenly, he turned to Trixie.

"Pardon me _T'li-chi_ , do the _No-mu_ like food that is..." Thunderpetal suddenly stopped, with a frown. Then he opened his mouth and flapped his paw in front of it. Trixie looked puzzled, then understood.

"Spicy. Hot. _Pedis_. Sharp?" She grinned. "Yes please!"

"Spicy," said Thunderpetal. "Hot. Yes. It is a shame I have no time to brew Chou's Fire Quenching Brew. I bring some milk, and leave that for next time." 

 

"And what time do you call _this_?" Lenna was Not Pleased with Trixie. "When you get out of school, bring a few extra spuds. Not very difficult, was it?"

Trixie raised her hands. "It's all Fuzzball's fault," she said. "He wants to cook for us tonight. I thought you wouldn't mind. Oh, and Master Wu Shen taught him a bit of Common, and his real name is Thunderpetal."

Thunderpetal bowed to Lenna. In Steambender Manor, he had to move about on all fours or knock his head on the ceiling.

"A thousand pardons, Mistress _Len-ah_. If it pleases you, may I see your kitchen? In thanks for your kind aid and hospitality I would like to prepare a simple but nutritious meal."

"Simple? There's six of us and one of you. Little Bieslook can't eat mushrooms, Trixie eats parsnips only if I tie her down and use a funnel, anything with cooked tomatoes in gives me the drempels, and Interalia..." Lenna looked over where Interalia was standing, watching the whole conversation with interest. "Eats everything and nothing at the same time. Think you have what it takes, Mr. Thunderpetal?"

"I have ingredients. I see a stove. I see knives and pots and pans. No cook should need more." Thunderpetal grinned. "Please sit down, Mistress _Len-ah_."

Thunderpetal had to be shown how the modern stove worked, but the steam-powered oven and the pressure cooker met with approval. After a few minutes, Lenna looked in to see Thunderpetal sitting in the middle of the kitchen, taking the bones out of a chicken and dropping them into a pan of boiling water. He was humming a strange little tune as he worked. He saw Lenna, smiled at her, pushed a mug of tea into her hands and waved her away. Lenna walked back into the living room, looking rather dazed.

"He threw me out of the kitchen. _My_ kitchen! He threw me _out_!"

"Oh my," said Interalia. "Nobody has ever dared to do that before."

Lenna sat back in her chair, pulled Interalia's footstool away from her and put her own feet on it. She closed her eyes and breathed in her tea.

"The word you're looking for, young missus Steambender, is _bothered_." 

 

Thunderpetal came walking in, with some difficulty, as he had to bend down deep, carrying a tray of food. Nix and Trixie had set the table. They sat down, looking at the unfamiliar food. Dark grilled duck meat was in a tray, and saucers of thinly sliced cucumber and spring onion were next to it.

"The sweet and spicy chicken is done in a half-hour. To start with, this is duck. You take pancake, like so, and put in bit of duck, then spring onion and cucumber. Add little _Hoi-sin_ sauce, then fold like so."

"We have to assemble our own food?" said Nix. "Why not just put it in packages to start with?"

"Then, the vegetables are too warm and the duck is too cold."

Everyone nodded, and started to wrap up bits of meat and vegetable. little Bieslook, a frown of concentration on her face, rolled up her pancake, and picked it up. The insides fell out. Thunderpetal showed her how to fold up the underside first, then roll it up.

After the duck came the main course. A large pan of rice, a large pan of bubbling stew, and a smaller one next to it. Thunderpetal pointed at the smaller pan.

"This one is not so spicy, for young Bi-cho, and maybe N'tu-la-lia. The other one is _very_ spicy, to warm hearts on cold days."

"Hurt me plenty," said Trixie. She held her plate up, and Thunderpetal put rice and chicken on.

"They say hot food can bring on labour," said Interalia. "I could do with a bit of labour. Smells _gorgeous_ , Fuzzball."

"I want the spicy!" Bieslook bounced on her chair.

Griggin looked a bit worried. "Are you sure, dear?"

Being Gnomes of the World, they had tasted the curries of all the species on Azeroth, and one of the things that had always offended Griggin's engineer's sensibilities was that there was no generally agreed-on standard for spiciness. What a Dwarf inn would advertise as 'Hellishly Spicy', a Goblin would classify as 'O dear, we're out of chillies'. There _was_ such a thing as a Scoville unit, but when someone mentioned those, it was usually to describe a curried fire elemental. Griggin poured Bieslook a glass of milk. He put a spoonful of chicken on Bieslook's plate.

"Taste this," said Griggin.

Bieslook did. "Like it," she said. "It makes my mouth warm."

Griggin and Lenna looked at each other.

"Fire mage," they said, at the same time.

Interalia tasted the food, closed her eyes, and groaned. "Nix? Cuff this bear to the stove. I'll never eat anything else, ever."

Trixie turned to Thunderpetal. "That means she likes it. Mind you, she likes _anything_. We sent her out to go shopping once. When she got back, she'd eaten all the food."

"Spud made me do it," said Interalia.

"Even the potatoes," said Lenna. " _Raw_ potatoes. I ask you."

Interalia grinned. "Crunchy!"

Nix nodded. "I'm taking her turns shopping now."

Thunderpetal filled his bowl and took out his chopsticks. "I am happy that you like my meal."

"Sure do. Thanks Fuzzball." Interalia frowned, put a hand on her stomach. "Stop kicking Spud, I'm enjoying this food and I'm going to eat it. If you don't like it, you can always come out." She suddenly stopped, put down her fork. "Oh... oh _crap_."

Interalia jumped to her feet. Nix and Griggin knew the signs and jumped up to give her room. Interalia ran off in the direction of the toilet. Everyone looked at each other.

"Please forgive our daughter-in-law, Mr. Thunderpetal."

Thunderpetal nodded, got to his feet and went into the kitchen. After a few minutes Interalia came back, angry and wearing a different blouse.

"Damn, damn, damn. I used to be a kick-ass Rogue. I used to run for miles. Damn it, I want this child _out_ of me. The healer said you only get sick the first couple weeks. Bloody _lies_!" She looked round. "He hasn't run off, has he? This is nothing to do with the food, it's just..."

A large claw was on Interalia's shoulder. A steaming mug was gently pressed into her hand.

"This is ginger tea with honey. It takes away the bad taste, and settles the stomach."

"Thanks, Fuzzball," said Interalia. "The food was great, honest. I loved it... the first time."

"I can make you Great-uncle Fai's brew," said Thunderpetal. "Good for sickness."

"Heh. No thanks Fuzzball, I'm on the wagon till Spud comes out."

"On the wagon?" Thunderpetal frowned, not understanding.

"No beer, no wine, no nothing", said Trixie.

"Ah, no. Great-uncle Fai's brew does not..." Thunderpetal searched for the word. "Bubble. Not make drunk."

"Ferment," supplied Griggin.

"Ferment. Yes. It is drunk by Panda-ren with child. I have the recipe here."

Thunderpetal grabbed his bag, and searched through it. His mouth fell open.

"My _recipes_! They are _gone_! They were written by my Father, my Mother. My Great-uncle... _Gone_!" 

"Damn," said Nix. "Those robbers probably took 'em. Does this mean you can't cook anymore?"

"I can see every page in my mind," said Thunderpetal. "I can write them out. But for the important recipes, I _need_ to read it from my recipe book. If I don't, the spirits of my ancestors are not with me, and it comes out all wrong. I must have them back!"

"Maybe you just dropped it there," said Nix. "We can go looking tomorrow."

"Not without some extra muscle," said Trixie. "The Old Barracks are a great place for getting yourself killed."

"And I'll stay here, and wait," said Interalia.

Lenna put an arm round her. "It'll be alright. I had _two_ children, and I'm still light on my feet. You'll see." Lenna looked at Griggin. "You or me?"

Griggin straightened his shoulders. "I'll go. If someone decides to bother us, there's a few of my assistants that I can call on." He turned to Thunderpetal.

"Don't worry, Mr. Thunderpetal. If your recipes are out there, we will find them." 


	4. The old castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would seem that Thunderpetal is finally able to show some of his skills as a Brewmaster. And Trixie is able to demonstrate the great gap in her warrior’s skills that would be perfectly filled by SOME BLOODY FURY TALENTS, DAD!

They were standing in a hidden spot by the road to the Old Barracks. Nix was wearing his black leathers, over which he had a rather dashing looking silk jacket, in dark shades of grey. He rolled his shoulders and looked at the Old Barracks. There was a side building of which only the foundation and some of the walls remained. Nix and Interalia had been there when the dragon came. Needless to say, they hadn't stuck around. There used to be a nice park here, which Deathwing had blown to tiny bits with one blast. He had flown over the city, perched on the gate, knocked over the statues in the Valley of Heroes, and finally, just when everyone thought their last hour had struck, he'd flapped off to the South. Nobody knew why, and as the city was still standing as a result, nobody wanted to know. You could still see the imprint of the Dragon's claws on the gate towers.

A few Dwarven stonemasons had come in, given the place one look, stroked their beards and declared the place a write-off, using words like "Subsidence", "Fault lines" and "The whole soddin' place'll come doon on yer head if ye so much as fart in the wrong place." As the soldiery of Stormwind abandoned the building, it was taken over by people who didn't know the first thing about civil engineering, but were happy with even half a roof over their heads. And, of course, some very nice ambush spots.

"So," said Nix. "Just to be clear on this. Are we looking for trouble?"

"Possibly," said Griggin. "What we are looking for, is Mr. Thunderpetal's recipe book. If our assumption, that it was simply dropped somewhere, turns out to be false, then we will need to look for the persons who took it."

"And ask them nicely to give it back," said Trixie. Since they were going to be fighting inside, where a two-handed sword would be inconvenient, she had brought her nicest short-swords. If only Dad would let her learn the fury talents. Then, they'd teach her to use _two_ two-handers. Until then, she could only dream.

Thunderpetal was sitting on the ground, hands gently resting on his knees, eyes closed. His bambu staff lay in front of him, and a small keg of brew stood next to him. He picked up his staff, slung the keg onto his back with a piece of rope, and got to his feet.

"General Sun-Tzu says, It is the rule in war, if ten times the enemy's strength, surround them; if five times, attack them; if double, be able to divide them; if equal, engage them; if fewer, be able to evade them; if weaker, be able to avoid them."

"There are four of us," said Griggin. "Nix says you were attacked by four Humans, not counting the young lady acting as a decoy. That would make us equal, or them one point two times our strength if the young lady can fight. Ignoring, of course, both weight and differences in fighting skill, which cannot be estimated without more information."

Trixie laughed. "Dad! You could take on this whole bunch of gits on your _own_ if you get the axe dude in, and you know it."

Griggin shot his daughter a little amused glance. "Perhaps, but Skurikraksha is somewhat of a blunt instrument. We may need some of these ruffians to talk. In this light, please strike to disable rather than kill."

"We're being _nice_ again," said Nix. "Cause we're the good guys."

"Not the way I do it," said Trixie. 

 

As soon as they stepped down from the road, Nix waved, and disappeared into the shadows. Thunderpetal blinked.

"Where does Ni-chi go?"

"Wherever he pleases," said Trixie. "No worries. He's around. Heh! You've never fought with rogues before, have you?"

"On our way here, we land on an island. Many _Ninjas_ there. They leave us in peace. Pirates are a better target than simple pilgrims." Thunderpetal chuckled. "One of them tries to attack Teacher Aysa Cloudsinger. She teaches him not to."

They slowly walked towards the main building. It rose up high above them. Some of the walls had come down, and you could see inside. Some of the rooms had lights in them. Thunderpetal pointed them at the spot where he had been attacked. They searched the ground in a wide circle around it, without finding anything. Griggin took his staff from his back and planted it on the ground.

"Well, it appears that Mr. Thunderpetal's book was taken by the robbers, and that we are looking for trouble after all."

Thunderpetal's eyes gleamed at Griggin. "These _Hozen_ will be very happy when they finally translate the book from Pandaren and instead of boring spells, they find Great-uncle Fai's recipe for Perfectly Boiled Noodles."

"Right," said Trixie. "Into the building then?"

"I think so. Remember, we're on their turf. Be prepared for surprises."

"Let me go in first," said Thunderpetal. "If they attack, I can keep them from hurting you."

"Oo! Am I the hacker on this gig?" Trixie's eyes looked large, blue and sad. "Now if only I had some fury talents."

"Trixie..." Griggin's voice sounded tired.

They clambered up onto a fallen piece of masonry and made their way into the building, into a large room. A stairway led up, but there were voices coming from behind a door. Thunderpetal listened at the door, then raised a finger and pointed. He took a few steps back, and waved Griggin and Trixie to the side. Thunderpetal closed his eyes, breathed in, smiled, breathed out. From an inside pocket, he took a small bottle, from which he drank only a few small sips.

With surprising speed, Thunderpetal bent down his large head, and rolled forward. The door shattered off its hinges and Thunderpetal rolled further into the room, and twisted as he jumped to his feet, with his back to the wall. With one hand he raised his staff, and with the other, he swung the brew keg round on its string. Brew splashed all over the occupants of the room. Dazed and confused Humans staggered to their feet, slowly drawing weapons. Thunderpetal blew, struck a few sparks with a ring on his finger and fire spouted from his mouth, setting the brew aflame that stuck to the Humans. With rapid strokes of his staff, he knocked down three Humans before they could even roll to put out the flames on their clothes. Trixie jumped in and swept the legs from under a fourth one. The last Human was the blonde woman who had been the bait to lure unsuspecting heroes to, if not their death, then their lasting embarrassment. She sprinted out of the door, her clothes still smoking, and disappeared upstairs.

"Holy crap," said Nix, appearing from the shadows with his daggers almost forgotten in his hands. "That's what they call taking the door into the house!"

Thunderpetal turned over one of the Humans, but could not get any useful response out of him. "These _Chiu-man_ cannot talk now. I over-estimated them. Teacher Cloudsinger is not pleased with me."

"Well, there's still Little Miss Bait upstairs," said Nix. "But she's either long gone, or has told all her friends about us."

Griggin gave the little grunt that told those who knew him he was not happy with himself.

"Well, since it will take these Humans a little time to recover, we must find some more."

"I'll scout," said Nix, and vanished.

"Catch something this time," said Trixie. 

 

"Well," said Nix, "There's about a dozen of them upstairs, and if we can believe that floozie then there's a whole horde of wild animals downstairs, eating their way through their friends."

"I do not eat _Chiu-man_ ," said Thunderpetal, affronted. "I do not bring the right spices, and there is no oven. Do they think I am a _savage_?"

Griggin sighed. Except in his basement, with proper containment facilities, he did not like to summon Daemons into Stormwind. It tended to upset people. They had easily defeated four of the Humans, but surprise had been on their side. Not anymore.

"I suppose this is as good an opportunity as any to see if Shiriah will obey my commands."

"Shiriah? Who's she?" said Trixie. "Your girl from below was called Darva, wasn't she? You used her when we..."

" _It_ ," interrupted Griggin, not wishing to remind Nix of that particular adventure. "Darva, and indeed Shiriah, are not women, they just look that way."

"If it looks like a duck," said Nix, "Wiggles its hips like a duck, has a cleavage like a duck..."

"Then that is exactly what it is," said Griggin. "Something that looks like a duck. People have come to grief with these... ducks." He turned to Thunderpetal. "Please do not be alarmed, Mr. Thunderpetal. I am going to summon us some help. I assure you, it is on our side."

Griggin closed his eyes, and started a chant. Lights rose from his upturned palms, and a few moments later, the blue not-a-woman called Shiriah showed itself.

"Who dares summon me," it hissed.

"I do," said Griggin. "You are still bound to my will. I have summoned you to aid us."

"Whoa," said Nix. " _Six_ arms? One of her ancestors get it on with a spider?"

"It's a Shivarra," said Griggin, "From the Hellfire Peninsula."

Thunderpetal looked at the Daemon. Then, as this was supposedly an ally, he bowed to it.

"Welcome to our group. I thank you for helping us."

The Daemon bared its fangs and explained without a word what it thought of the arrangement.

Griggin waved a hand, and at once Shiriah turned its head towards him. "Shiriah, We have fourteen..." Griggin considered. "Twelve... you have three pairs of five-fingered hands. What base do you use? Never mind. More than twice our numbers. Please prepare to fight."

Shiriah gave a hiss, and raised four hands. Swords appeared in them. It looked back at Griggin with eyes filled with hatred.

"She's not as nice as Darva," said Nix.

"I saw Darva remove a man's liver with its thumbnail once," said Griggin. "And eat it as he watched. I used to quite like liver. Please take us upstairs, Nix."

Led by Nix, they quietly walked up the stairs, to where they could hear voices. Two guards stood by one of the broken rooms, but they were listening to the conversation inside, and not looking outside. Thunderpetal put a hand on Griggin's arm.

"Guli-jin, we cannot fight a dozen _Chiu-man_ at once, not even with the she-devil here. General Sun-Tzu says we must seek to divide them, that we may deal with them piece by piece."

"I agree," said Griggin. "Nix? What is the situation there?"

"One bandit leader, big strong sucker. One lieutenant. Four big thugs with clubs, six little sneak-thieves, including the bait."

"Hmm..." Griggin stroked his chin. "I think if those guards were to disappear, he'd send out his second-in-command with some muscle. We could take those, and then deal with the rest inside."

"Dad, we could also go home, and Fuzzball could cook out of his head. He's good enough. The book is just a feather to make him believe he can fly."

Griggin laughed quietly. "I think a little more is at stake here. I think the Panda-ren are eager to show they can be of service to the Alliance."

"And we're just the Gnomes to tell King Grumpy how good they are?"

Thunderpetal smiled at Nix. "I show him my Tiger Palm when I visit him. I regret that he falls on his bottom."

Trixie's mouth fell open. "You knocked King Grumpy on his arse? Oh pull the other one!"

"My children," said Griggin, "We have thugs to knock over. Nix? Can you lure the guards here?"

"Sure Dad," said Nix, and disappeared.

Trixie drew her swords and tapped Thunderpetal's thigh. He looked round at her.

"I'm going to find out if it's really true about you and Varian, and if it is, I'm dropping Richard and you can be my boyfriend."

Thunderpetal looked into Trixie's eyes, mildly worried, then saw the gleam in them. Nobody can belly-laugh like a Pandaren.

"Here they come," said Griggin. 

 

The two guards came walking down to them, carefully. One fell to Nix' sock weighted with lead pellets. The other ran into Thunderpetal. He knocked the Human back with a roudhouse kick, then cut his cry short by knocking him out with his staff. They tied the men up, then dragged them to a quiet place. The disappearance of the guards had not been missed inside, and sure enough, a few moments later six of the Humans came out, weapons out, looking in all directions at once.

"That's the Boss' mate," said Nix. "With two of the heavies and a few expendables."

"A nice even split," said Griggin, satisfied. "I suggest that if we hit the group inside first, then make our escape, we may not have to deal with the second group."

Nix looked at the advancing thugs. "Want me to draw them off?"

"If you would. Will you be alright? We'll need about half an hour, I think."

"Like a kite on a string," said Nix, checking his smoke bombs. He grinned to himself. "If only Interalia was here. She'd _love_ this."

Nix disappeared into the gloom. A little later, they heard a small explosion and smoke billowed out. The lieutenant waved his hand and several of his minions stalked towards the smoke. There was a loud snap, and one of the thugs next to the lieutenant fell to the ground. Griggin smiled to himself. Nix was enjoying this.

"Well, friends," said Griggin. "Let's see who we can find inside." 

 

Thunderpetal hefted his battle keg on his back, and felt in his bag for his fire-brew. With Griggin, Trixie and their demonic minion in tow, he ran at a trot up the stairs. The people inside would have a lookout. No sense in trying to sneak up. As he approached, he crossed his arms in front of him. A big Human appeared in the doorway and took a swing at Thunderpetal with a club. Thunderpetal, with surprising agility, ducked under the blow and rolled into the room. Trixie followed him inside, swords out, with a wild look in her eyes. Looking round, she picked her opponent, a big Human man wearing leather armour and fighting with a dagger. Trixie leapt up high and slashed her swords at his chest. Before the man could strike back, she had run out of reach of his weapons.

At the other end of the room stood a big, burly man wearing blackened chainmail. He watched Thunderpetal and Trixie fighting for a moment, then turned to the woman next to him.

"A little Gnome girl with a bear pet? _That_ is who attacked you? You stupid wench, why do you bother me with that?"

"It breathes _fire_ ," shouted the woman. "It kicked all of our butts without even breathing hard!"

"Bear for breakfast," said the leader. "You idiots take the Gnome girl if you can manage it."

He pulled out a mace and rushed out to Thunderpetal. Then for all his blood-thirst, he could not help standing still and looking at Thunderpetal. Thunderpetal reached into his bag, took out a bottle and drank. He belched, said something that sounded like 'Pardon me', then simply stood there swaying from side to side with a big grin on his face. The leader swung his mace but Thunderpetal moved out of the way, and counter-attacked with an open palm to the chest. The leader staggered back, steadied himself, then attacked again. This time, he scored a glancing blow to Thunderpetal's shoulder. Thunderpetal grunted, then spun round on one foot and kicked the leader in the side. The leader fell down to one knee, and shouted.

"Did I say 'This One Is Mine' or something? Get him!"

All the thugs, except for the one still locked in a fight with Trixie, now gathered round Thunderpetal. Thunderpetal spun on one foot, and kept spinning, twisting, turning as he kicked anything with the bad sense to come within claw's reach. Usually, the phrase "fur flying everywhere" is bad news for the wearer of the fur. Not so now. Thunderpetal seemed almost to dance round his opponents, moving like a drunken ox among them. All round him, Humans fell over, struck by accturate blows of hands, feet or staff.

Trixie's enemy made the mistake of turning round and looking at the whirlwind of black and white that was Thunderpetal. Trixie saw her chance. With one sword, she swept his legs from under him. The other sword landed on his helm. He fell to the ground, arms slowly moving, trying to get up. Trixie turned round to see if anyone else needed hitting, then there was a shout from outside. Silhouetted in the lower half of the doorway was Griggin, cloaked, hooded, staff in his hand.

"Shiriah! Attack the leader."

The blue Daemon Shiriah jumped straight over Griggin's head, four swords pointing at the leader. Griggin ran into the middle of the room, cried out words of destruction and the floor round him seemed to bloom up in a hellish glow. All the Humans turned to flame, and screamed.

The leader of the bandits shrunk back. "Warlocks! Daemons! Devilry! Retreat! Every man for himself!" 

 

Every Human who still could, ran for the exit. Last to leave was the woman called Live Bait. When the fight started, she had jumped up on what remained of the floor above, and she was unhurt. Thunderpetal took a running jump, rolled over and tackled her just before she could reach the door. She leapt to her feet and slashed out with a vicious looking knife.

"Out of my _way_ ," she shouted, and stabbed at Thunderpetal.

Thunderpetal stepped aside, grabbed her wrist, then kicked her legs out from under her. The knife clattered to the floor and the woman landed on her stomach with Thunderpetal sitting on her, with a wrist lock on her arm.

"Slow down," said Thunderpetal. "Life is to be savoured."

"Let me _go_!"

Thunderpetal applied a little more pressure to the woman's wrist, making her gasp.

"You are the one who makes me come down here, for your friends to attack me, like _Hozen_ from the trees. Luckily, my head is hard."

The woman looked up. "Nothing personal."

"You give me the wisdom not to go to this place unprepared. I give you and your friends the wisdom not to attack Panda-ren. It is my hope that when broken bones and burns heal, wisdom remains. That is why you are all still breathing."

Trixie turned over the Human she had fought.

"This one's had it," she said. She looked up at Griggin. "I think his helm wasn't as good as I thought it was, and your fireworks finished him off."

Nix came walking calmly in, just in time to hear that. "Occupational hazard if you're a thief and a robber. Dad, I left our friends in the bay fighting off a bunch of sharks. Don't think they'll be back for another half-hour or so, but when they are, they'll be pissed off."

Thunderpetal moved his head a bit closer to the woman's face. "Your friends take something from me when they attack me. A book, of recipes. You will tell me where it is."

"What book?"

"Do you need more wisdom to tell me?"

" _No!_ We didn't get any book off you. What do you mean?"

"It is a roll of very thin paper, in a holder of bambu almost as thick as your wrist."

"It's in the for sale pile. Couldn't make heads or tails of it."

Nix walked up to Thunderpetal, and looked at the woman's face. She was breathing quickly, and her eyes were shut tight. Nix looked better. No. It couldn't be. The hair was now blonde, and there were a few lines on her face that hadn't been there before. Still.

" _Raven_? What by the Titans are _you_ doing here?"

Despite the pain in her wrist, the woman's eyes opened, and she turned her head round so she could see Nix.

"Nix?"

Griggin had just dismissed Shiriah, and now came walking up. "Oh hello Miss Raven. How nice to see you. Why is it that whenever we meet, you are restrained in one way or another?"

Raven glared at Griggin, teeth showing. "Tell this mutt to let _go_ of me!"

Griggin gave a little laugh. "Mr. Thunderpetal? We know this young lady. Please let go of her. Miss Raven, please do not try to run away."

"Oh, would I?"

Raven got to her feet and shot Thunderpetal a filthy look, rubbing the life back into her wrist.

"If I give you the sodding bit of paper, will you leave me in peace?"

"I will be most grateful," said Thunderpetal. 

 

They kept Raven between them as they walked up to the robbers' stash, a pile of those things that you got off your victims that might be worth something, but only if you could find a buyer. All the nice weapons, jewellery, and money of course, were long gone. Raven dug through the pile of junk, then pulled out a bambu tube with a red tassel attached to it. She handed it to Thunderpetal.

"That it?"

With trembling fingers, Thunderpetal opened the tube, and pulled out the roll of rice paper. Father's recipe for haddock boiled in yak milk. Uncle Fai's Tranquility Brew. His own recipe for chicken stir-fried in honey. They were all there. The collected knowledge of his family was once more in his hands. He put the paper back in the tube, put the stopper back on, touched it to his forehead, then put it in his bag.

"Miss _Lei-huen_ , I thank you for returning this to me."

"The others wanted to chuck it in the fire," said Raven. "But I told them not to. It could be that they were magic enchantments, and you don't want those to go off all at the same time. So if it wasn't for me, you'd never have seen that again."

"You are a lady of great wisdom," said Thunderpetal. "I am blessed that you are there when Fate decides I should be robbed."

"Yeah," said Nix. "When you're cornered, lie your butt off. That's wisdom, that is."

"Excellent," said Griggin. "Now then, I think we have all that we came for, so we'll bid you farewell, Miss Raven. I hope that our next meeting will be under more pleasant circumstances."

"Like hell you will," said Raven. "I'm coming with you."

"Huh?" Trixie gave Raven a strange look. "Why'd you want to leave your friends here?"

"Well, they've probably seen me coming along with you. They're going to think I betrayed them, because, not to put too fine a point to it, I did. And then, they'll find out I know you. So I'm sure that if I explain all of that calmly and clearly, they'll..." Raven bent down to Trixie. "Strap me to a bloody tree feet up and cut bits off me and make me eat them! I'm getting out of here. _You_ are getting out of here. So let's get going."

They started back towards the road, Trixie first, then Thunderpetal and Griggin. Nix and Raven took up the rear.

"Dammit," said Raven. "I had a sweet gig going here. Lie down in the nice warm grass, moan piteously at the passers-by, then wait till the noise stops and collect my share. And you bloody shrimps come and spoil it for me by..."

"Winning?" said Nix.

"Oh shut up," said Raven. 

* * *

Thunderpetal was sitting on a rice mat by the fire, with a nice hot cup of green tea in his hands.

"Today, I have taught the _Chiu-man_ of the Old Castle to the West that attacking the Panda-ren has its disadvantages."

"All by yourself? said Aysa Cloudsinger.

"By no means," said Thunderpetal. "The _No-mu_ named Steambender helped me, and I am very grateful to them."

"That is very kind of them," said Aysa. "The _No-mu_ are a generous people."

"It turned out they know the woman who lures me into the trap. She is called _Lei-huen_ , after a carrion bird that lives in Elwynn Forest."

"I know of these birds. They take shining objects and hide them in their nests." Aysa sipped her tea. "It is an apt name."

"I believe it refers to the colour of her hair, which was black when they knew her. She returned my ancestors' recipes to me."

"Of her own free will?"

"Not entirely," said Thunderpetal. "Still, my gut tells me that her heart is not evil."

"There are _Hozen_ who study in the Chun Tian Monastery," said Aysa Cloudsinger. "People are like a glass filled with a mixture of clear and troubled water."

Thunderpetal nodded quietly. Aysa Cloudsinger refilled her tea cup from the large teapot by the fire and tasted, noticing how the tea had grown stronger than her last cup.

"On the whole, the _Chiu-man_ , _Dor-fu_ and _No-mu_ are kind to us. The _Kel-do-lei_ keep to themselves. The _D'len-ai_ think we are funny and interesting. I think we should give back something to all the people who have welcomed us."

Huang looked up at Aysa. "We have no riches to speak of, Teacher. What can we give to these people?"

Aysa swirled the tea in her teacup, looking down into it.

"Those of you who have befriended hunters, ask them where you can gather meat. The farms to the East can provide us with vegetables at a reasonable price. Perhaps some of us can help them tilling the soil as a sign of good will. The Alchemists can provide us with the materials for fireworks." Aysa grinned. "Let us show the Alliance how to enjoy life!" 


	5. Promenade III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning: Violence.**
> 
> The Pandas get ready to boogie!
> 
> “Alright ye sconsies, who here calls themselves a brewmaster?”
> 
> All round the open-air kitchen, Pandaren were chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and turning spits on which a variety of Elwynn Forest fauna was being roasted to perfection. Some of them were using large round frying pans that occasionally caught fire. At least half a dozen claws were raised into the air.
> 
> The Dwarf pointed behind him at four of his family carrying between them a barrel large enough to serve as a house.
> 
> “We brought ye a keg! Any of ye furballs care to sample?”
> 
> Also, a fair word of warning. Did you see that bit about scenes that some may find disturbing? This chapter is it. If you are easily triggered by violence. exercise caution when reading.

Raven looked at herself in the hairdresser's mirror. Excellent. Her hair was now short, almost boyish, with a few playful tufts sticking out here and there. And black. Deep black. Being a blonde bimbo had been a profitable job, but the real Raven had black hair. Just to make sure that people wouldn't really think she was a boy, she'd bought a fairly tight red blouse and a dark blue skirt that hung half way down her calves. The skimpy top and short, short skirt that had been part of her damsel-in-distress disguise, she'd thrown in the bin. Now for the most important part. The name. She wanted something wholesome, decent, innocent. Her hair would smell like strawberries and her laugh would sparkle like a waterfall on a summer's day. Florence? Too old. Janice? Too decent and boring. Aubrey? Hmm.

"Hi! I'm Aubrey. I've lived next door to you for years. Have you never noticed me?"

It could work. Slap on a bit of red lipstick, to avoid being _too_ good a girl, and who could resist her? She paid the Goblin hairdresser, and put her business outfit of soft leather leggings, leather jacket, weapons belt, boots, and fingerless gloves, in a bag. Every boy's dream girl does not, as a rule, run around with two long thin poisoned daggers. Just in case one of the boys might go further than dreaming, though, she clipped a small knife to the inside of her skirt at the back, and had to wiggle a bit to get it comfortable. A _sgian_ _dubh_ , contrary to popular belief, is not always worn in the sock. The reason you wear it in your sock is to show that you're not hiding it anywhere else. Raven looked at her hands. To a trained observer, those were always a dead giveaway. You couldn't go around climbing buildings, leaping over rooftops, and occasionally hitting people, and keep your hands in a ladylike fashion. Oh well.

Raven breathed in, filled her mind with sunshine and stepped out into the street. She walked off in the direction of Old Town, where she'd spotted a 'Help Wanted' notice earlier. It was time to lie low for a bit and allow her former companions to get over the loss of her. She hummed a happy tune, smiled at passers-by as she walked.

"Oh hello Miss Raven! Nix told me you were in town. How nice to see you again. I love what you did with your hair."

Raven looked down, and her brilliant smile lost some of its authenticity. Not that she disliked the Steambenders specially, but they didn't fit the new style.

"Mrs. Steambender! How nice to see you! I hope you're well?"

"Oh, Lenna, please. I'm very well, thank you for asking. What brings you to Stormwind?"

Raven beamed at Lenna, sweetness and light surrounding her until she shone with it.

"Aubrey. My real name is Aubrey. Raven is just a nickname from way back when. I hear there's an opening for a shop assistant in one of the spice shops in Old Town."

"They'll be lucky to have you," said Lenna. "Cover for something interesting, dear?"

Damn. That was the thing about Lenna Steambender. She had that knack to believe every word you said, without actually believing it.

"No, nothing like that," said Raven. "I need a bit of a rest, a change of pace."

"Don't we all," said Lenna. "Mind you, I think we're in a bit of a quiet before the storm. Our Nix' wife Interalia is about to pop. My goodness, I'll be a _granny_!"

"Nix is _married_? He didn't say anything about that."

"I'm sure he had other things on his mind at the time." 

 

They walked on towards the trade district. Lenna was looking for some cheese. Might as well get some black peppercorns while she was there, and perhaps save Mavis Fadeleaf the shopkeeper from making a terrible mistake. Miss Raven wasn't a _bad_ girl, but then again, you had to remind yourself occasionally that she wasn't a bad girl despite her uncertain grasp on the concept of property and how some things belonged to other people. They walked into the shop, and Raven - sorry, _Aubrey_ asked after the job. Mavis smiled at her.

"Have you ever worked in a spice shop before, girl?"

"I have, Mrs. Fadeleaf. In Westfall, before the troubles with the Defias."

"Let's play a little game," said Mavis, pulling a bottle off one of the shelves. She handed the bottle to Raven. "What herb is this?"

"Saffron," said Raven. "Made from the stamen of crocuses. Used in cooking among other things to colour rice. Has a characteristic metallic-sweet aroma. It is very expensive. I would say that I am holding about five gold in my hand."

Raven handed the bottle back to Mavis. Mavis carefully put it back on the shelf, and pulled out another.

"This one?"

"Capsicum. Ingredient for spicy food."

"And this?"

"Dried basilicum. I _love_ basil. My mother used it to liven up the potatoes."

"That sound lovely," said Mavis. "One more, I think."

Mavis pulled up a ladder, clambered up and pulled down a large brown jar with a glass stopper.

"I won't hold it against you if you don't know this one, dear. In fact... Well, have a look."

Raven shook a few seeds into her hand, then gave Mavis a look.

"Oh, Mrs. Fadeleaf. You are being naughty."

Mavis laughed. "I am, aren't I?"

Lenna had been following the exchange with growing wonder. She looked up at Raven.

"What?"

"This is known as bullhead, goathead, or even devil's weed," said Raven. "It is used for things that are drooping down when they should be standing up."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Raven looked round to Lenna and gave her the kind of grin that sweet young innocent girls should not give.

"Ah," said Lenna. "Very useful."

Mavis looked from Raven to Lenna.

" _Kent jou hierdie meisie?_ " said Mavis, in Gnomish.

" _Wel eens voorheen gesien,_ " said Lenna.

" _Is hulle te vertrou?_ "

Lenna smiled. " _Die is slim genoeg. Waar die eet, sal die nie kakken nie._ "

"Indeed," said Mavis. "Miss Aubrey, I think you have passed my little test. How about you work for a week, and then we'll see?"

Miss Aubrey's eyes grew large and a big smile appeared on her face.

"That would be _wonderful_! Thank you, Mrs. Fadeleaf!"

"Well Aubrey," said Lenna, "In that case, can I have some black peppercorns and some aniseed? Bieslook likes it in her milk."

"Certainly, Miss Steambender." Raven walked behind the counter and without hesitating took down two jars. "How much do you need?"

"Five grains of pepper, ten of aniseed."

Raven measured out the spices, put them in paper bags, took Lenna's money and put it in the till.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's it, thank you Aubrey." Lenna gave Raven a look. "Best of luck in your new job."

"Thank you, Mrs. Steambender." 

 

Mavis Fadeleaf looked at Raven as she put the jars of pepper and aniseed where she'd got them from.

"How did you know where to find the spices?"

"I read the labels while you were talking to Mrs. Steambender, Mrs. Fadeleaf."

" _All_ of them?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Raven.

Mavis looked into Raven's eyes. Aubrey looked back at her. Mavis briefly considered testing her again, but she had the feeling this girl would pass it.

"Welcome to my humble shop, Aubrey. Please call me Mavis. I'm going to make some powders and ointments. If anyone asks for anything medical, call me." Mavis looked at the clock. "Oh, and Henry Stilger is about due in. He'll be looking for some of the naughty herbs, but just pass him on to me. I'll be in the back." 

* * *

Interalia looked up from her book. Some git was banging on the door. With a sigh, she dragged herself to her feet and waddled over to the door. Spud disapproved of all this movement and gave Interalia a good solid kick to the insides. She opened the door. It was Fuzzball.

"Hi! What's up?"

Thunderpetal bowed to Interalia. "This evening, there is a feast for all those who are kind to us. I am honoured to invite you, and the rest of the Steambender family, to the island."

"Whoa! Free food? Count me in. Are you going to cook?"

"We all cook, N'tu-la-lia. Many people are kind to us. We are blessed."

"Great! Do we need to bring anything? Bottles? I'm telling you, I squeeze a mean orange juice."

"Bring what you wish."

"Right. See you tonight," said Interalia. She watched Thunderpetal hurry off to the Island of the Cute Furries. Spud kicked her again. Interalia put her hand on her belly.

"Oh alright, I'll lay off the spicy food. For a bit, anyway."

Spud kicked her again

"Oh come on. You never let me have any fun." 

* * *

"Miss _Lei-huen_? It is good to see you again." Thunderpetal bowed to Raven. "Especially in a more healthy place than you were before."

"Your kind words and gentle touch have inspired me to better my life. By the way, my real name is Aubrey. How can I help you?"

"Tonight, I cook duck stewed in white wine, with an orange sauce. It is a recipe from my mother. You help me recover it when we meet earlier."

Raven quickly looked over her shoulder, but Mavis was still in the back. There had been lots of customers for an ointment for muscle cramps, and she was making more.

"What spices do you need?"

Thunderpetal closed his eyes and quickly rattled of a list of spices, which Raven pulled down from the shelves. Master Wu Shen's primer on the Common Speech had been sadly empty of even the most basic cooking ingredients, so Thunderpetal had visited the library and compiled a long list of herbs and spices from the wealth of botanical works there. Raven quickly weighed off the herbs and spices, took Thunderpetal's money and had almost got him out of the shop when Mavis returned with a tray full of jars. She started to put them on the shelves, and saw Thunderpetal.

"Ah, Mr. Thunderpetal. Can you find what you seek?"

"Yes, Miss. _Aub-li_ is very helpful and quick."

"Isn't she though? Hard to think she's only been here today."

Thunderpetal nodded. "May I humbly invite you to join us for dinner tonight? The Panda-ren offer it to all who are kind to us."

"Oh we would be delighted," said Mavis. "Can you make it, Aubrey?"

"That would be lovely," said Raven, with a sparkling smile. She was getting _good_ at this Little Miss Sunshine act. 

 

Night fell over Stormwind. On one of the roofs in Old Town, in the shadow of a chimney, Raven looked down on the street. She'd been a good girl all day. In fact, she'd been such a good girl that all the other girls were now slightly tarnished by comparison. As a kind of antidote, she'd put on her black leathers, and taken a run in a few places where nice girls are not supposed to be. From where she was, she could see the spires of the cathedral. She should really try climbing that sometime. The view would be great from up there. Time to get moving. She still had to find a place to stay the night. Plenty of places in a city if you knew where to look and could scale walls. She'd find a proper room somet...

Raven's eyes were drawn to someone moving in the street below. Her face hardened into an expression that would scare off any hopeful young boy. She'd recognise that chainmail anywhere. What in the name of all things pointy would get _him_ to crawl out of his hole? There were a few possible answers, but the most likely one was that he was deeply concerned about her sudden disappearance, and was looking for her to see if she was alright. And if she was, do something about that.

"Shit."

Right. Change of plans then. Perhaps it would be a Good Thing if sweet little Aubrey went to the ball after all. Lots of people around. She judged the distance to the next roof, took a jump and landed neatly on the other side. With inspired speed, Raven set off in the direction of the Dwarven District. 

* * *

"Alright ye sconsies, who here calls themselves a brewmaster?"

All round the open-air kitchen, Pandaren were chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and turning spits on which a variety of Elwynn Forest fauna was being roasted to perfection. Some of them were using large round frying pans that occasionally caught fire. At least half a dozen claws were raised into the air.

The Dwarf pointed behind him at four of his family carrying between them a barrel large enough to serve as a house.

"We brought ye a keg! Any of ye furballs care to sample?"

Aysa Cloudsinger walked round, with a big smile on her round face. There was a small list of things two peoples always did when first they met. Learn each other's language. Exchange gifts. Aysa chuckled. Find out about each other's mating rituals... perhaps not just now. And of course, sample each other's food. The people of Stormwind, it turned out, were quite ready for a party. As soon as word got around that there would be something happening on Furry Island, people had started offering help. Large tables and benches had been brought in on a boat. One of the inns had kindly lent them some big cooking pots, grills and other tools. A few _Chiu-man_ were helping in the kitchen. A big man with a long black ponytail was showing off his knife skills. Things were going well. The Panda-ren and the people of Stormwind were getting to know each other. If nothing bad happened, this could be the beginning of a long and strong friendship. 

 

"Get me out!"

"I'm pulling. Do you see me pulling?"

"Well, pull harder!"

"Give me a moment. If I get a few long spars of wood, I can construct an A-frame and lift you out."

"Are you saying I'm heavy?"

"No I'm not. I'm also not saying fire is hot and the sky is up."

"Shut up and pull!"

Interalia finally made it out of the boat, and on to the island. The party was already going on. Poles had been erected with lanterns hanging from ropes strung between them. A large sail-cloth lay to the side that could be pulled over the poles if the weather should turn nasty, but as the night was beautifully starry and clear, the tent was used to sit on instead. The island was bustling with every kind of good clean fun. People were eating, drinking. Off to one side, a few members of the Stormwind Male Choir were swapping songs with Pandaren singers, and talking about the different music theories. There was a small circle of Night-elves and Pandaren monks, deep in a serious discussion.

Nix spotted Thunderpetal, who was carrying a steaming bowl to one of the tables, and shouted and waved. He came walking over, and looked at Interalia.

"You look like you lose some weight," he said. "That's _terrible_! Here. Have a dumpling."

"Don't mind if I do, Fuzzball." Interalia picked a doughy parcel out of the pan and passed it quickly from one hand to the other, blowing on her fingers.

"Are Guli-jinn, Len-ah, and T'li-chi here as well?"

"On the next boat. Didn't want to get in with _ow_!"

"Watch it, Mister."

The next boat landed, and Griggin and Lenna got out. Trixie lifted up Bieslook, and Lenna had to hold on to the collar of her dress to keep her running at all the furry Pandaren at the same time. Her eyes were alight with joy and she bounced up and down.

"Bears! Black and white bears!"

Trixie jumped ashore. "Got to cuddle them all, Bies!"

"I'm _going_ to!"

As they walked to the main fire, several Pandaren spotted Interalia and her belly, and steered her to a comfortable spot, close by the fire. They pushed a mug of strengthening tea into her hands, put their hands on her stomach to feel Spud kick, and drowned her in helpful advice in Pandaren. Trixie squatted down next to Interalia. Interalia pointed at Nix.

"I liked those dumplings. Could you get me some more?"

Trixie grinned at Nix. "Oh, you're the _best_ brother _ever_!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Nix, and ran off.

Trixie looked round, and saw Wu Shen walk up with Ilsa Corbin.

"Oh no, it's the teachers," said Trixie. "Hide!"

"Don't tell anyone," said Ilsa, sitting down. "Shen? Whatever is smelling so nice, get me some."

"Yes, my Lady," said Wu Shen, with a bow.

Nix arrived carrying a tray with steaming bowls and chopsticks. Trixie picked one up.

"We're supposed to eat with that?"

"It's easy," said Ilsa.

"For you with your freaky five-fingered hands," said Trixie.

Interalia grinned, reached into a pocket and pulled out a fork. "Always be prepared, is what I always say."

"And yet..." said Trixie, pointing at Interalia's belly. She tried to pick up a dumpling with two sticks. It fell into her lap just before she could get it into her mouth. "Stuff this," she said, and speared it with one stick.

Wu Shen came back with food. Ilsa lay down with her head in Shen's lap.

"This is how you do it," said Ilsa, looking up at Shen. Shen picked up some food and put it in Ilsa's mouth.

"Hmmm," said Ilsa, licking her lips with intent.

Trixie stared.

Ilsa beamed at her. "We're off the clock, young miss Steambender. We can do anything that propriety allows." 

 

Mavis Fadeleaf walked into the circle of light, followed by Miss Aubrey. Bieslook bounced up off Lenna's lap.

"Raven! You're pretty!"

Raven thought quickly, squatted down next to Lenna, and pulled Bieslook on her lap. Too many people here who knew her. Still, it was better than people who wanted to kill her.

"My name is Aubrey," she whispered. "Raven is just a nickname."

"Like Granny Fwoosh?"

"I beg your _pardon_?" Lenna slowly looked round to Interalia.

" _What_?"

"I trust you alone with Bies, and now _this_? Fireballs at dawn, young lady."

Interalia made big eyes at Lenna, and put her hand on her belly. 

"Oh don't give me that," said Lenna. "You don't want your newborn babe's first sight to be of Mummy running round on fire... do you?"

Interalia sighed. "Just to be _able_ to run around. Almost worth it."

"Just a few more weeks dear," said Lenna. "Then, you get the joy of sore nipples and yukky nappies."

"Can't wait." 

 

Raven... sorry, Aubrey, had left just after the Guest of Honour arrived. King Varian had been unavoidably detained, and judged that mingling with a bunch of furry creatures would be just the kind of diplomatic mission for his young son Anduin. Aysa Cloudsinger gravitated towards him, and made polite conversation. Lenna looked away from the spectacle of the Heir to the Throne, several hopeful young ladies, and a rather put-upon servant trying to push them away with a pointy stick. Her eye fell on something colourful lying on the ground. She picked it up.

"Oi everyone? Doesn't this purse belong to Miss Aubrey?"

Trixie looked. "I think so. The girl isn't really used to having girly things around, is she?"

"I suppose not," said Lenna. "Right Nix. Would you..."

Nix was helping Interalia up to get her to the ladies' room.

"Ah. Trixie?"

Trixie pointed at Bieslook, lying in her lap, fast asleep after the Pandaren Cute overdose.

"Dearest?" Lenna looked round for Griggin, who was at the other end of the field talking to some hooded and cloaked figure. She sneered.

"Oh alright then. I'll be back in a minute. Anyone know where she's sleeping?"

"She said she was somewhere in the Trade District, near the griffins," said Mavis.

"Going up in the world," said Lenna. "Right. I'll be back in a bit."

She ran off towards the boats, found a big strong Human to get her across, then ran off after Raven. 

* * *

Raven, still in her Aubrey disguise, walked along the streets of the Old District. She'd dropped her kit behind one of the rain barrels in Old Town. Just pick it up and get out of here. Her old friends would probably have returned to the Old Barracks by now, for a busy night of robbing passers-by. Someone else could be the bait. Just as she turned towards her hiding place, someone grabbed her from behind and put a knife to her throat.

"Go on. Scream. See what happens."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Raven. "What do you want?"

"Boss wants a word with you. Come quietly, and you won't get hurt."

Raven sighed. "Alright then."

Damn, damn, _damn_! This was not good. She knew the man who was taking her. He was using the magical upper arm hold on her that, as any fool knows, renders women completely incapable of resisting. She could probably dislocate his elbow with one quick move, but then, she'd have the whole gang on her neck. Better to go along with him and try to talk her way out of it. From long experience, she knew that it was easier to be smarter than these people than it was to be stronger. He was taking her to the aptly named Cutthroat Alley. Even though there was no need to, he pushed her to make her walk faster, just to show her who's boss. They entered an inn called the Shady Lady, went out the back, then into the basement of one of the buildings. She narrowly avoided falling down the stairs when he pushed her. They went into one of the side rooms. Inside, the fearless leader of their gang sat at a table. The room was dimly lit with candles.

"Ah. Cordelia. How nice of you to join us."

Cordelia had been the name Raven had used when she was being the live bait. She'd picked it more or less at random, after another blonde girl she'd known a long time ago.

"I was forced," said Raven.

"Trying to hide from us? You should know that nothing that we set our eyes on stays away from us for long."

"Is there some point to this, Baltar? It's late, and I'd like to get some sleep."

Baltar got up and walked towards Raven, looming over her.

"We don't take kindly to traitors. That quick enough for you?"

"Oh right. Would that be the kind of traitor who runs away and drops his friends in the shit?"

"You _knew_ that warlock and his friends, didn't you?"

"Never seen them before in my life," said Raven. "And even if I did, what about it?"

"You led them straight to our cache. That's not very loyal of you."

Raven looked Baltar in the eyes. "Let's see. On one side, a warrior, one of those bears, a rogue, a warlock, and a sodding _demoness_. On the other side, little me. What else could I have done?"

"Got your cute butt out of there, that's what."

"Fat chance," said Raven. "You and your band of brave brothers tried to fight them, and got nowhere. I gave them a piece of paper worth exactly _nothing_ to you, and got them to bugger off. Now who did better, you or me?"

"You led them to our treasure room, you worthless bitch."

" _Treasure_? Let's see what we had in there. Three sets of broken chainmail, a broadsword mostly made of rust, trainees' spell power rings already soulbound to someone else, a wooden shield worth twenty coppers, the unmentionables of one of your playthings, do I have to keep going? It's _junk_! This _skirt_ cost more than that whole damn treasure. If they ransacked it, they did us a _favour_!"

"You forget one thing," said Baltar.

"What? Something in there worth a King's ransom after all?"

"You are expendable. We can get another girl with tits as nice as yours in the time it takes me to snap my fingers."

A deadly chill ran up Raven's spine. That answer did not connect with her question at all. Which meant that she couldn't win this argument, because it was not really an argument, but a prelude. Baltar had lost face with his 'tactical retreat', and the only way he could get it back was by putting the fear of the Gods into his minions. Raven could think of only one way he'd do that. Time for a change of tactics. She raised her left hand, put her right behind her back.

"Like that?"

She snapped her fingers. Baltar looked up at her hand. With her other hand, Raven drew her dagger and aimed it at the gap between his chainmail and his belt. Before she could strike, someone jumped forward and hit her hand with a club. The knife fell to the floor. Strong arms grabbed Raven, lifted her off her feet and slammed her down on the table. Baltar picked up Raven's knife.

"Thank you for that, Cordelia my love." He put the knife underneath her blouse and cut it open. "Now, we can skip to the fun part. Well, fun for _me_ , not for you of course."

Raven tried to kick and pull herself free, but it was no use. Baltar bent over her and put his hand over Raven's mouth.

"Cordelia, my dear? Savour this moment. Between this, and me letting you die, this is what it feels like to have no pain."

Raven kicked, tried to bite Baltar's hand as he gently rested the tip of the knife between her breasts.

"Ready?"

Baltar pressed the knife into Raven's skin, then drew it down to her belt. He let go of her mouth. 

* * *

Lenna trotted through the streets of Stormwind, in the direction of the gates. Mavis didn't know exactly where Aubrey lived, so she'd have to catch up with her before she got indoors. If she could. Perhaps her keys would be in the purse. No time to look. She barreled into Old Town. Gah. There were at least three different routes Aubrey could have taken. Or perhaps the girl had gone for a relaxing stroll in the starlight. Huh. Not likely. Aubrey might. Raven wouldn't. She'd climb up on a roof, perhaps, but not in the dress she was wearing. Lenna came to the end of Old Town, without seeing Raven. She took a quick left towards SI:7, saw nothing. Why was she bothering with this? She could just as easily give the purse back to her tomorrow at the shop. Lenna smiled to herself. Raven was a lot smarter than most people gave her credit for. Why the girl had suddenly gone all bright and beautiful and respectable was anyone's guess. Could be anything from a desire for some rest to a plot to rob the Bank of Stormwind. Or perhaps, she _had_ gone straight. Lenna shook her head. Girls like Raven liked the thrill, the challenge of doing naughty things without being found out. She might work at Mavis' shop for a month or so, but then the itch would strike her, and she'd end up with her hand in someone else's pocket.

"My girl," said Lenna to herself, "If you leave your things behind, then _you_ can run after them."

Lenna turned round to go back, and then, hundreds of yards away, she saw her. She half opened her mouth to call her, but then she noticed how the man with her pushed her forward. Lenna's eyes narrowed. No boyfriend does a thing like that and gets away with it. Which meant that this _wasn't_ a boyfriend, but a boy _enemy_.

"Oh _sugar_ ," said Lenna, who had long ago learnt to sanitise her vocabulary with Bieslook around. Because she had gone to a party, not a fight, she was wearing an elegant yet practical black dress. Her staff was in the umbrella stand at home. Jennea Cannon, her trainer of magecraft, had always said that for a _real_ mage, enchanted robes and focus devices were but ornaments that encouraged unfocused magic use.

"Thanks Jennea," said Lenna, and sprinted after Raven. 

 

Raven's boyfriend put in a brisk tempo, and Lenna only slowly gained on them. She ran after them all through Old town, back to the Dwarven District, only to see them disappear some fifty yards ahead of her. The door turned out to be that of an inn. Lenna stormed in, and quickly looked round the bar. Raven was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd they go?"

Lenna's question only got her weary stares. Questions were not encouraged, and answers were unheard-of. There was only one other exit: the door into Cutthroat alley. Lenna ran, then stood still, aware of predatory eyes watching her. Raven and her captor were nowhere near. Lenna walked round the buildings, looking, listening for any clue.

"Oh Raven my girl, where are you?"

Suddenly, Lenna stood still, holding her breath. She'd heard something. The only thing positive about the noise was that the person making it was still alive. She tried the door. Locked, of course. Interalia or Nix could have opened it in seconds. Luckily, Lenna didn't care too much about locking it again afterwards. Her fireball burnt a Gnome-size hole in the door. Lenna entered. The terrible noise was louder now. Gathering up all her strength, Lenna ran forward. 

* * *

Raven snorted as the acrid stench of smelling salt hit her, forcing her back into consciousness. The pain hit her, hot angry stripes running from her breasts all over her body.

"You look unhappy, Cordelia. I wonder why that is. But you know, I'll put a smile back on your face."

A big hand was on her head, holding her steady. The knife sliced open her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

She screamed, couldn't faint.

"And the other side."

Before the knife could cut her, her _own_ sharp knife, she felt... heat. Heat all over her body, and she heard everybody in the room cry out. Above all the noise, above her own cries, she heard a high-pitched voice, calling out in an unknowable language, then... silence.

" _Raven_!"

Raven found that she could move her arms. She looked up, with blood streaming from her chest, her face, into her eyes.

"Oh my, oh my girl. What have they _done_ to you?"

Raven tried to answer, but she couldn't talk.

"I can't carry you, my girl. Please tell me you can walk."

"Lenna?" The word came out strange, slurred.

"Ssh! Don't talk. Come, lean on me. We're getting you out of here."

The room swam in front of Raven's eyes as she dragged herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the tiny woman's shoulders. She dragged herself through the hole in the door, through the dark alley, and out through the bar. Nobody tried to stop them. Lenna would have burnt anyone to a cinder who even thought about it, and her limitless anger flared in front of her like an aura. Raven half walked, half crawled, and half was carried on Lenna's strong shoulders.

"Lenna..."

"Shh. I'm getting you to the healers, sweetie. Not far to go. Keep going. Everything is going to be alright."

"Can't... walk."

Raven's sight became a red mist of dancing dots. Then, she slowly sank into blessed sleep. The last thing she saw was Lenna's hand shooting fireballs into the sky. So bright. So pretty... 

* * *

Griggin walked back to the fire where Interalia, Nix and Trixie were sitting, chatting with Thunderpetal, Ilsa Corbin and Aysa Cloudsinger. Wu Shen had been dragged away to judge an impromptu martial arts contest between a Dwarven warrior and a Pandaren monk. Bieslook was fast asleep in Trixie's arms.

"I think it's time to go home, my little sprouts," said Griggin. "I'll call for a boat."

Griggin turned round to the mooring place, when someone hit his shoulder. He looked round to see Nix pointing upwards. Griggin's breath stuck in his throat. High above Stormwind were bright flares, rivalling even the fireworks set off by the Panda-ren. Lenna was in trouble. Just as he turned to run to the boats, a clawed hand was on his shoulder. He looked up to see the Pandaren leader, Miss Aysa Cloudsinger, look down on him.

"You seem disturbed. What is it?"

Griggin pointed. "My wife. She is in trouble."

The tall bear-like woman looked at Lenna's distress signal.

"Give me a moment. I'll help." Aysa called for her warriors, healers. Despite the fact that they had been drinking, they appeared before her like ghosts, all carrying weapons.

"This _No-mu_ 's wife is in peril. We run to his and her aid. Move!"

Trixie jumped to her feet and dropped Bieslook in Interalia's lap. Nix grabbed a cooking knife and followed. The Pandaren did not run to the boat, but instead summoned huge tortoises fitted out with riding gear. Griggin and his children were picked up by the back of their shirts and rode along, across the water, with surprising speed, towards Old Town. Griggin stared ahead, his lined face hard as stone. If anyone was hurting Lenna, then that someone would soon long for the comforting solace of hell itself. 

 

They found Lenna sitting by the side of the road with Raven in her lap, still firing firebolts into the air. Aysa and her Pandaren leapt off their riding tortoises. At a few hand signals from Aysa, they formed a circle round Lenna and Raven. Huang ran forward, the green aura of his healing magic already surrounding him.

"I can't find a pulse!" Lenna looked at Huang. "No pulse!"

"She lives," said Huang. he held his paw over Raven's blood-stained body. A green and golden light streamed out to Raven, back to Huang. Then, Raven's arms twitched, and she cried out.

"Not again! Please stop it! Just kill me! Please!"

Lenna breathed in deep, then stroked Raven's hair. "You're safe, my girl. You're safe. Everything will be alright."

Huang looked Raven over. The long, cruel cuts on her body, he had closed by his healing magic. He looked at her face. One cut across her forehead, one in her cheek. He'd need better light to fix that properly. From his bag, he pulled out a jar of ointment and smeared it on Raven's face for the pain, and to stop the bleeding.

"We can move her now," said Huang, standing up. "Take her to the island. Then, more healing."

Thunderpetal bowed down over Raven and picked her up in his arms.

"I am very sorry that this should happen, _Aub-li_."

She looked up, her body shaking, with grey eyes made of steel.

"My name," she said, "is Raven." 

* * *

They took Raven up to the island, and put her in a camp bed in one of the tents. Huang very carefully put her damaged cheek together, and cast the spells that told the flesh to mend itself, the blood vessels to join up. Raven sighed, closed her eyes and fell asleep with Huang watching over her. Huang put his large paw on her black hair, and smiled. Meanwhile, outside, there was somewhat of a commotion. The Dwarf who'd brought the keg of Thunderbrew's finest, stomped round with thunder on his face.

"Why does this always happen when yer not bloody dressed for a fight? My sons! We're going to put a stop to this once and for all! All of ye furries, if yer in for a scrap, meet me in the town square by the notice board in half an hour's time! The barracks may be a right shambles, but it's still _ours_ , and no bloody scunner is going ta tramp round it without a good kickin, Dwarf style!"

He ran off for the boats and disappeared in the dark. Aysa looked after him with a smile on her face, then pointed at a dozen or so of her fighters.

"Show our _Dor-fu_ friends that we are allies to be rejoiced in. Make sure that all of our friends return home, and that no enemy be left standing before us."

Griggin watched the Pandaren. He would have expected a fierce battle roar after that, but they simply bowed solemnly and disappeared into the night. Lenna was sitting next to him, her hand holding his tightly. Her head was on his shoulder, and tears were slowly trickling down her face.

"First Nix, and now this," she said, quietly. "Poor, poor girl."

"She's alive," said Griggin. "Where there's life, there's hope." 


	6. Disputes of children at play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this thrilling chapter, Raven tales a little trip to Westfall for her health, and learns much about how Gnomes interact with each other.

Raven woke up with a start, sweat pouring off her. She was in a tent, its roof gently flapping in the breeze. There was daylight. It wasn't dark. She was not back in the cellar. Her skin felt strangely tight, but she wasn't in any pain. She looked down. Someone had put a long shirt on her. She wasn't wearing anything else except her underwear. With her eyes closed, she pulled up the shirt, baring her stomach, her breasts. Then, she took three deep breaths and opened her eyes. Half a dozen pale white lines ran from her breasts to where her belt had been. Oh gods. Her _face_. Would it look as bad as this? She wasn't particularly pretty, and she wasn't particularly vain, but there were roles you couldn't play with a big scar on your face.

Someone rustled at the tent flap, and Raven quickly pulled her shirt down again. The tent door opened and one of the Pandaren came in carrying two mugs of tea. One of them, he pushed into Raven's hands.

"It is a good morning," said the Pandaren. "My name is Huang. I heal you last night. Does any discomfort remain?"

Raven couldn't find her voice. The Pandaren sat down next to her camp bed.

"Drink your tea. It is..." Huang searched his newly implanted memories. "I do not know the Common word. Good for healing, restoration. Good for heart."

Raven bent over her cup, but she could not make out her reflection in the surface. She could remember perfectly where the knife had cut through her cheek, the metal point touching her teeth. She raised her finger to her mouth, and tried to feel.

"Please do not touch it," said Huang. "It is still a bit fragile, though I am very pleased."

"Does..." Raven coughed. "How does it look?"

"It looks very good. It is healing very well. I leave it to heal by itself for a while to help with scarring. This afternoon, I cast another healing spell. Then it is done."

"Scarring?"

"Yes. It looks very good. The _Chiu-man_ have no fur to hide the scars, so I pay special attention to your face."

The tent flap moved again, and a Pandaren woman walked in. Raven recognised her as Aysa Cloudsinger.

"Please forgive Huang his bedside manner," said Aysa. "It is the first time he heals one of the _Chiu-man_. He considers it an honour and a challenge."

"Please, Miss," said Raven. "Could you tell me how it looks? I mean..." She raised her shirt. "Like this?"

Aysa raised her eyebrows. "Did Huang not show you?"

She left briefly, to come back a few moments later with a mirror, which she handed to Raven. Raven steeled herself and looked. Her breath slowly escaped her lips. All that she could see was a thin line running from her ear to the corner of her mouth. It was not invisible, but it could have been so much worse.

"I cast another healing spell this afternoon," said Huang. "I hope it is sufficient."

"Thank you," said Raven. 

 

She didn't remember falling asleep, but when she woke up, a man was sitting next to her on a chair, looking at her. He had short reddish blonde hair, and a small goatee. He was wearing very expensive leather armour, and a sword was at his side. A notepad was on his knee, and a pencil was in his hand.

"Miss Aubrey?"

"Yes Sir."

"Congratulations on your speedy recovery. The Pandaren healers have really outdone themselves. Nobody short of a dance partner would notice that your cheek had been cut open completely. If they intended to impress us, then they have succeeded."

Raven said nothing.

"Do you happen to know who I am?"

Raven looked into the man's eyes.

"Shaw," she said. "Mathias Shaw." Shaw was the leader of SI:7, formerly known as the Stormwind Assassins. Stormwind's secret police.

Shaw nodded, with an amused look in his eyes. "Correct. I am a contradiction in terms, a famous secret agent. I have a few questions for you. For reasons I won't bother you with, I am taking a special interest in your case."

"Sir?" Raven looked slightly worried. She hadn't done anything... very bad... recently... here.

"Don't worry. I am not after you, but rather after your assailant. I know your name is neither Cordelia nor Aubrey. You trade under the name of Raven, but I suspect your mother did not give you that name. Your hair used to be longer, and blonde. A grave mistake you have wisely corrected. Black suits you much better. You used to run with a highly disreputable gang operating out of the Old Barracks. You have recently said goodbye to them, thereby incurring their ire. They attempted to torture you to death, but luckily for you, one Mrs. Lenna Steambender spotted you, followed you and managed to drag you out of that place. You were found and healed by the latest race to enter the Alliance. If any of these things had not happened, then you would be dead now, and I would not have the opportunity to learn some facts from you that have eluded me up to now."

Raven opened her mouth, found there wasn't anything she wanted to say, then closed it again.

"Now I am afraid that I must ask you to cast your mind back to last night. I know this is painful for you, but it is quite important." Mathias Shaw scribbled on his notepad. "Did you get a proper look at them? Anything you remember at all."

Raven cleared her throat. "There were six of them. Three of the heavies. One on each of my arms, one on my feet. Leather legs, One green, two dark grey. Chainmail shirts, two with shortswords, one with a club. One woman was at the door as a lookout, she died when Lenna blasted through. One nasty little shit laughing at me, no armour, just rags. Pickpocket. The guy who cut me is called Baltar, the only one wearing full chain, nicked that off someone they jumped before I joined, two big holes in his back from spears... You're not writing that down."

Mathias Shaw turned over the notepad. All that was on it were squares, circles, triangles, stick figures. Shaw slowly shook his head, and gave Raven a gentle look.

"Wouldn't be much use in my job if I had to write down everything. By the Light, woman! You were caught, in a dark room, and they were cutting you to pieces, planning to kill you. You were delirious from blood loss, and still you remember what they were _wearing_?"

Raven shrugged. "Yeah."

"Honestly, you were wasted on those people. Anyway, this confirms what I had guessed. It may surprise you, but Mr. Baltar was working for me. _Was_ being the operative word. He has since decided that working for the King is not as glamorous as robbing people we do not want robbed, and keeping the loot. Which I'm afraid is a first order offence. We will have to find Mr. Baltar and mend his evil ways for him. I'm afraid Mrs. Steambender's fireworks did not finish him off. In the light of this, I fear that if you do not disappear for a while, he may try to attack you again. If you could make yourself scarce for a few days, I suggest that a place like Redridge or Westfall might be good for your health. I can send word to you when we have him."

"I'll leave as soon as I can," said Raven.

"Good. Oh. I believe this is yours."

Mathias Shaw held out his hand, something hidden in it. Raven took it, looked at it. It was her black knife. When she looked up again, Mathias Shaw was gone. 

* * *

It was late in the morning at the Gates of Stormwind. Since the coming of Deathwing, the place had lost some of its glamour. Deathwing had toppled over some of the large statues, and one of them had landed in the pond at the foot of the bridge. Deathwing had eventually been defeated in a way so complicated that only a madman could have thought of it, and the place was quiet once more except for the stationary engines of two Gnomish mechanostriders. Next to them stood a large Pandaren riding tortoise. It was the luxury model with the lanterns and the large beer keg tucked away behind the saddle.

"I am like old Dshang Go," said Thunderpetal, quite pleased with himself. "In Pandaria, we tell of eight immortal monks, and the second is old Dshang Go. He has a white mule that he keeps in his trunk, and can unfold when he needs it. It can travel a thousand miles in a day. With my tortoise, I am lucky if it travels a thousand miles in a thousand years, but it is very trusty."

"Unlike Humans," said Trixie. "If she's not here in five minutes, I'm off."

"Probably has to steal a horse first," said Nix. "These things take time."

"Ni-chi," said Thunderpetal, "That is not a nice thing to say."

"She's not a nice girl," said Nix.

"I'm here!" Raven came riding up on an honest-to-goodness Dwarven riding ram. These beasts, twice to three times as large as any normal ram, were bred in the cold mountains of Dun Morogh.

Nix pointed. "Did you just knock over a Dwarf?"

Raven smiled charmingly at Nix. "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. Are we off?"

"Giddy-up," said Trixie, and kicked her strider into gear. 

 

They rode down the road towards Goldshire, then took a right on the long road to Westfall, a rural province of the kingdom of Stormwind. The Alliance's main military presence there was the garrison at Sentinel Hill, where Trixie's boyfriend, Richard Sparkbolt, was stationed. After the Steambenders had left Ironforge, everybody had expected their romance to fizzle out, but so far it hadn't. They managed to sustain it with fiery letters and the occasional meeting in Elwynn Forest. They had been to the Darkmoon Faire together. Picnics by the side of the river that the Undead of Duskwood were thankfully unwilling to cross.

"Heh! I didn't tell him I was coming. If we disappear for a bit, don't come looking. We'll be just fine."

Raven laughed. "Gnomish mating habits. One of Natural Science's great mysteries. These shy and retiring creatures do not breed in captivity, and the only tantalising glimpse we have into this fascinating world is their characteristic mating call of 'Yes! Yes! _Yes!_ ' echoing through the valleys, and a mystifying heap of shedded rubber skins."

"Oh _damn_ ," said Trixie. "Um... Do you think we have time to drop by a shop before we hit Westfall?"

"And that is how Spud came to be," said Nix.

"Richard wrote that he was going to have a talk with his dad about us," said Trixie. "Finally."

"Fat chance," said Nix.

Trixie glared at Nix. "What do you mean by that?"

"Our Richard is a great natural resource for alternatives to 'Sorry Trix, I haven't, the moment just wasn't right'. How long has he been saying that now?"

"Damn you Nix, _this_ time..."

"This time will be just like the times before. Why should he? He's getting all that he wants from you."

"He loves me. I love him. We'll sort it out."

Nix scowled. "Far as he's concerned, it's _already_ sorted out. Cute girl over in Stormwind, inspiring letters, the occasional..."

"Shut your mouth, Nix Steambender! What's it to you anyway?"

" _You_ shut up," said Nix. "I don't like to see any of our family being taken for a ride. It's bloody embarrassing!"

"Oh right, like _you_ are a shining example. Interalia only married you because she had to. That's why you get away with calling her fat."

Nix slowly turned his head to his sister. "Interalia is married to me because when I was going through a really bad patch, she was there with the right mix of sympathy and a good solid kick up the arse. All it would've taken her to get rid of me and run off into the blue is one little trip to the Priest. No more Spud, no more Nix. But instead, she took it on the chin, and acted like a responsible adult. Unlike that boyfriend of yours. And I get away with calling her fat, because I will run through fire for her, and she knows it."

And that was that. They rode on, quietly fuming.

Raven turned to Thunderpetal. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No. I am an only child."

"Shame," said Raven. "Look what you're missing." 

 

It was late in the evening when they finally crossed the last bridge that was between Elwynn Forest and the grain fields of Westfall. Most of the crops were already in, and the land was barren. It was the season for stocking up, drying fruit, making jam and conserving meat for the coming winter. The land looked empty, remote, turned in on itself, with its yelllowish soil and the occasional building. Trixie rose in her stirrups to look ahead.

"How much further is it?"

"Sentinel hill?" Raven pulled her cloak a bit tighter round her. "About another four hours at this rate."

"I never realised how far it was," said Trixie, staring ahead without seeing much. "Must have taken Richard more than half his leave to come visit me."

Nix glanced sidelong at Trixie, but said nothing. Richard wasn't the worst bloke Trixie had come home with. There had been Barry, the git. Before that, in Gnomeregan, Trixie had had a friend or two, but none of them really qualified as boyfriends. Nix himself had been the textbook pipehead. It had taken him quite a long time to catch on that some girls wanted to do other things besides play with cogs and springs. He'd ended up with a girl who like him hadn't caught on quick enough and together, they'd approached the battlefield of love in much the same spirit as they'd approached school projects. She had actually read the instructions on the packet of sonkies to be sure that they were standard issue and no surprises were to be expected. It was a nice memory, and the girl had moved a few months later. The standard three letters had been written and that was it.

"It is dark soon," said Thunderpetal. "Perhaps it is better to find shelter for the night. I bring dinner."

"Oo!" Raven's eyes shone. "Not those veggie spring rolls by any chance? I loved those!"

"I am sorry, no. I can make some if you want, when we get to Sentinel Hill. It is Lei Stormstout's recipe. I swap it with her for Father's crayfish soup."

"Oh Fuzzball, you're going to make some girl very happy." Raven pointed. "There's a shed, or a barn there. Something with a roof on."

"Great," said Nix. "Let's get inside."

The shed turned out to be open on one end, dry, and sound enough not to collapse on their heads. Nix looked at a rusty metal plow, perhaps wondering from long habit if he'd be able to get it going with a bit of oil. He gave a pull at one of the wheels. Not a chance. The mechanism had devolved into Art. Meanwhile, Thunderpetal had put down a floor of loose bricks, just large enough for a brazier. He struck fire and put on the kettle. From the back of his travelling tortoise, he produced parcels of rice and meat, neatly wrapped in large leaves. They sat down to eat. Thunderpetal looked round at his companions. Nix and Trixie were still not talking to each other. Raven wasn't talking at all, but simply sat there, staring at the fire. Her hand was underneath her shirt, slowly moving.

"I'm turning in," said Trixie. "Unless I'm up for first watch?"

Raven raised her hand. "I'll take first."

Trixie kicked her clothes off and got into her sleeping bag. "Wake me at midnight," she said, and turned over. 

 

They all woke up at a loud cry from Raven. She was sitting by the last glowing embers of the fire, shoulders hunched, shivering.

"I'm awake. Just dozed off. I'm sorry."

Nix put away his daggers, walked over to Raven and put his hand on her shoulder.

"I can take over if you want. You get some sleep."

"Don't want to," said Raven.

Trixie stepped up to Raven, looked into her eyes. "You look like death warmed up. Go on. Get some sleep."

"I don't want to," said Raven, again.

"Why not?"

Raven struggled with herself, almost as if to say something, then simply shook her head. Nix looked at her, gave a little nod.

"I understand."

"You _understand_? What do _you_ understand? I don't want to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in that Light-bereft cellar, with... with _him_ , cutting into my skin. Into my _face_ , and that little _shithead_ laughing at me. I... I don't want..."

Nix closed his eyes a moment, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"What are you _doing_?"

Nix pulled open his shirt, and held up one of the lamps. Raven stared. Cuts and burns covered Nix' chest. Nix buttoned up his shirt again.

"I get it, Raven, really I do. It does pass. It takes time, and you never really forget it. But it does pass."

"Raven." Trixie put a hand on her arm. "You're safe with us. Nothing's going to happen to you. They'll have to go through me to get at you, I promise."

Before this week, Raven would have laughed at the idea of a three-foot tall girl protecting her. But she'd seen Trixie fight, and more than that, nobody had ever wanted to protect her. Raven's eyes misted up, and she cried with quiet sobs.

Nobody moved for a few long moments. Then, Thunderpetal stirred.

"I feel more need for meditation than I do for sleep," he said. "Come here, _Lei-huen_. Lie down."

Raven sniffed, then lay down on the floor with her head in Thunderpetal's lap. Someone pulled a blanket over her, and Thunderpetal's large hand gently rested on her shoulder, his large body a comforting presence behind her. Raven closed her eyes.

"You are with friends," said Thunderpetal. "You are safe. We watch over you." 

* * *

"When?"

The nice Gnomish priestess cast a professional look between Interalia's legs, put her hands on Interalia's tummy and squeezed.

"Head's pointing down. Good. Having backaches?"

"Yes!"

"Heartburn?"

"Yes!"

"Shortness of breath?"

"Yes!"

"Still throwing up?"

"Yes!"

"Oh poor dear. Swollen feet or ankles?"

"Yes!"

"Contractions?"

Interalia's face fell. "No."

"Hmm."

"Look." Interalia grabbed her breasts and thrust them at the priestess. "They're _huge_. That's got to mean something doesn't it?"

The priestess laughed. "Oh I bet Daddy likes _that_!"

"Look, but don't touch. So. How much longer?"

"Few days to a few weeks," said the priestess.

"That's what you said last time!"

"Well, it's still true. Babies come when they feel like it, dear."

"Anything I can do to... hurry things along?"

"Hmm. Tried spicy food?"

"Yep. These Pandaren are great."

"Sex?"

"So Nix says. Can't see what he's doing down there with Spud in the way."

"Well keep doing that then. For the love of the Light, don't go horseriding. Make sure you've got a nice comfy chair, and wear shoes with just a bit of heel for posture. And wait. Not long now, honest." 

 

Bieslook saw Interalia walk out of the door, and trotted up. She cast a critical look at Interalia's belly.

"Spud is still inside you," she said, with certainty.

"Oh good," said Interalia.

Lenna put her arm round Interalia's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you home." 

* * *

Two mechanostriders, one Dun Morogh ram and a Pandaren riding turtle pulled into the fort at Sentinel Hill. Since the last time they'd been here, the tower and the half finished inn had grown into something you could properly call a town. After the defeat of Vanessa van Cleef, the attacks of the Defias Brotherhood had stopped, and the fires had been put out. Since so many new soldiers had flowed into the place, a few of the trainers had been moved here, including Trixie's voice coach. She would be taking a few lessons, and then they would all move on to Darkshire, where Nix needed to visit the Gnomish engineers for some parts.

"They finished the inn," said Raven.

"Yes, and then the Defias came and burnt it down, and they rebuilt it again." Nix grinned. "Much faster this time. They've been practicing."

As they stood looking round, a group of soldiers came out of the tower, and walked towards the barracks. Without a word, Trixie jumped off her strider, ran towards one of the soldiers and planted her face on his. Nix turned to Raven.

"Wanna guess which one of those soldiers is Richard?"

Raven rubbed her chin. "The Dwarf with the two beards?"

"No."

"Hmm... The human next to him?"

"No. One more guess."

"Well, then it would probably be the Gnome attached to your sister."

"Got it!"

They stood still for a few moments. Trixie showed no sign of letting go. Several of the other soldiers were cheering them on. Raven turned to Nix.

"Oh, you'll know this. I read something once where they made a metal globe, hollow, cut in two halves. And then they fit them together and sucked all the air out from between. And then they tried to pull the halves apart, and they couldn't. Is that really true?"

"Oh yes. The atmosphere is pretty impressive. There's a column of seven miles of air pressing down on your head, and you're just standing there."

"Bit more air on _your_ head then," said Raven.

"That's 'cause we gnomes are just that little bit more awesome," said Nix.

"So did they ever get those half globes apart again?"

"Oh yeah. Took them about sixteen horses and a hundred soldiers."

Raven looked back at Trixie.

"Did they try a bucket of water?" 

 

All good things must finally end, and just before Raven turned into an old woman, Richard and Trixie came walking up, Richard with his arm round Trixie. He raised his fist at Nix.

"Bro."

Nix knocked his fist into Richard's. "Richard. How's things?"

"Good. How's the XYL?"

"About to burst," said Nix. "Any day now."

Raven blinked. "What's an XYL?"

"Well, YL stands for Young Lady. But I went and _married_ my young lady, so she's now my Ex Young Lady."

"These things are far too subtle for you lugs to understand," said Richard. "Whole worlds of nuance in a few simple letters."

Raven tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow at Richard. "Do you shag a YL, or do you have to be X rated for that?"

"Um... yes you can if you want to," said Richard. "Given mutual interest."

"Right. Got it," said Raven. "Do the Pandaren have XYLs, Thunderpetal?"

Thunderpetal folded his hands on his stomach. "The Panda-ren have transcended the cycle of birth. We are a gift from the Great Jade Serpent to this world. We walk fully formed from the Mountains of Birthing. Which is a great shame, because many Pandaren women make our hearts beat faster and our stomachs forget food."

"Saves you from girlfriend trouble, though," said Nix.

" _My_ girlfriend is worth _all_ the trouble," said Richard, turning to Trixie and bumping his head gently into hers.

"Bucket!" said Raven.

Nix just frowned, and said nothing. 

 

They walked into the inn, and got three beds for the night, because Trixie, as a pupil of the Stormwind Military Academy, could sleep in the barracks for free. They had the standard Westfall stew for dinner, which Thunderpetal tasted thoroughly.

"They use too much salt," he said. "And the chillies drown out the flavour of the boar meat. Much better to use less salt and put in some lemon juice."

"Hot." Trixie smacked her lips. "Lots of it. Spicy. Good."

"Got your taste buds shot off in the war?" said Raven.

"Remember the Mensa Silex in Ironforge?"

"Oh _thanks_ for reminding me." Raven shuddered.

"The lovely Cheez-with-a-z-because-it-doesn't-contain-cheese?"

"Didn't mind the Cheez," said Raven. "It's the strips of meat they flung at me, the flesh of I dare not guess what creature."

"Flunked assassination rogues," said Nix. "And other rats."

"And on that happy note," said Trixie, "I'm off to the barracks. Coming Richard?"

Richard got up quickly, waved, and walked out with Trixie. Nix heaved a deep sigh, and said nothing. Thunderpetal looked at him.

" _Li-cha_ does really love _T'li-chi_. I can tell. They look happy together. There is no worry."

Nix looked up. "So 'all the trouble' does not include telling his father, then? How are they going to get anywhere when Daddy thinks my little sister is a cockroach?"

" _T'li-chi_ is a lovely girl. Why would he think that?"

"Our dad is a warlock. You've seen the demon, haven't you? People don't like warlocks. Can't deal with demons unless you're at least a _bit_ grubby."

" _Guli-jin_ is an honourable _No-mu_! He knows right from wrong better than some people who have never had to choose the path to walk."

"I know that. Now convince Magis Mustrum Sparkbolt. Honestly, sometimes I think Trix would be better off dropping Richard and finding someone else."

Raven pushed away her bowl, and lay down on the bed, hands behind her head.

"Nix, if I may give you some advice, coming from a woman..."

"As good a piece as 'punch her in the face and tell her she's your bitch now'? That would have worked a treat."

Raven tilted her head back and laughed, remembering. "Even better than that." She raised her head, looked seriously at Nix. "Butt out. Let them work it out for themselves. You're a nice guy, Nix, really you are. But you haven't a clue about girls."

Nix opened his mouth, but Raven pointed her finger at him.

"Your XYL is special. One in a million."

Nix looked back at Raven, with a little smile on his face.

"Yes, she is. Trust me, I know." 

* * *

Trixie and Richard had run off in the general direction of the barracks, but somehow, they had completely lost their way, and were now by a little pond. Luckily, Trixie had brought a blanket for them to lie on while they kept each other warm. They were lying close together, a bit sweaty, a bit sticky, and very happy. Trixie sighed as Richard's hand crept up towards her breast, perhaps as a way of gauging interest in seconds. Maybe. In a bit. Too comfortable now. She gave a little giggle as Richard kissed her behind her ear. Definitely. Soon. She turned round in Richard's arms to look into his eyes. His hand brushed her cheek.

"Got any sonkies left?"

"Yep."

Not soon. Now.

She pushed Richard's shoulder, and rolled him onto his back, then sat on top of him. Her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, back down. His hands copied her movements. Trixie grabbed the box, took out one of the shining packages.

"Did you talk to your dad yet?"

Richard's expression told Trixie all.

"Why not?"

"He's out to Ironforge. Meeting with the Mage Circle."

Trixie breathed in deep, breathed out.

"All the time since last time I asked you?"

"No, but..."

Trixie bent down over Richard. " _And_ the time before that?"

"No. Look Trix, I..."

"In _fact_ , ever since you bloody left Ironforge?"

"Trix..."

"Don't 'Trix' me! When _are_ you planning to tell him that I still exist?"

"I... I..."

Trixie got up, anger on her face like the first thunder in a storm. She picked up her underwear, put on her clothes, looked over her shoulder once, and left. 

* * *

"Let's go."

"Do you not say goodbye to _Li-cha_?" Thunderpetal held out the reins to his riding tortoise, and with a grunt, it appeared out of nowhere. No matter how often he would ride, he was never going to tire of seeing that.

"Already did," said Trixie.

Nix hit the button that made his mechanostrider unfold itself. Raven was already sitting cross-legged on the back of her ram. She'd had a quiet night's sleep without dreams.

"Hey short stuff? What's up with the boyfriend?"

" _Ex_ boyfriend," said Trixie.

"Told you so," said Nix.

"Shut up," said Trixie.

"Seconded," said Raven, with a dark look at Nix.

Thunderpetal looked at Trixie, the pink bunches of hair in front of her face, her hunched shoulders, and said the best thing anyone could have said. Nothing.

Their small caravan set itself in motion, heading for the road to Darkshire. 


	7. Bydlo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderpetal imparts his wisdom on his friends. You’ll be pleased to know that the folktales of the Eight Immortals he is referring to, are classic Chinese fairytales, that can be found at Project Gutenberg in an English translation by Richard Wilhelm et al.

Late morning, Westfall. On the road were a Gnome riding one of their mechanical birds, a mechanostrider. Next to him a Pandaren riding tortoise, being ridden by a Pandaren monk. On his right, a Dun Morogh riding ram ridden by a dark-haired Human woman. They had talked about all kinds of things having nothing to do with boyfriends or related subjects. When the sound of them not talking about boyfriends had become an eardrum-shattering un-sound, Trixie had pulled ahead a few dozen yards, and stayed there.

"I still don't know why she's pissed off at _me_ ," said Nix. "Don't shoot the bloody messenger."

"Which is why I told you to butt out," said Raven.

Thunderpetal took the stalk of grass he'd been chewing out of his mouth. "I tell you of the Eight Immortal Monks, yes?"

"The one with the epic blow-up donkey", said Raven.

"The _sixth_ monk is called Li Tia Guai, or Li with the iron crutch."

"Yeah?"

"When Li is a young boy, his parents die," said Thunderpetal. "He is raised by his older brother, and his wife. His sister-in-law treats him badly, Li is always hungry. So Li flees into the wild, where he learns the Hidden Knowledge, and becomes immortal."

"Gosh," said Raven, "Mind if I flee into the wild for a bit?"

"Li is now a grown man, so take your time," said Thunderpetal. "But then, Li wishes to see his brother again, and he goes to his house. His brother is not at home, so he asks his sister-in-law for some boiled rice."

"As one does," said Nix. "A cheese sandwich is traditional with Gnomes."

"Li's sister-in-law, she says, fine, but there is no firewood. But Li is not troubled. He says, I can use my leg for firewood."

"Proving that immortality does not in and of itself provide you with wisdom," said Nix. "How about running out into the woods?"

Thunderpetal laughed. "For the purpose of the story, can we assume that there are no trees either? Li then warns his sister-in-law that there is one thing she must not do. She must not ask if his leg is hurting him."

"Does this sister-in-law have a name?" asked Raven.

"The story does not tell."

"Typical," said Raven. "Who cares about the women?"

"The brother does not have a name either," said Thunderpetal. "Li sits down with his leg under the rice pot, and lights his leg. The leg burns like coal, and in eleven-and-a-half minutes, the rice is nearly boiled."

Raven buried her face in her hands. "Oh gods. The stupid woman is going to ask, isn't she?"

Thunderpetal ignored Raven's blatant stealing of his punch line. "With the rice almost finished boiling... the sister-in-law asks, Li, is your leg not injured? Li is most annoyed. He says, do I not warn you? If you do not ask, then nothing happens. As it is, my leg is lamed. And he takes the poker and fashions it into a crutch, puts his bottle on his back, and limps off back into the wild for medicinal herbs. And that is why he is called Li Tia Guai."

"Oh _hard_ _core_ ," said Nix. "None of that running round screaming My leg is on fire! Heals! Heals!"

"Sounds like any warrior I've ever known," said Raven. "Get out of the fire. Monosyllables only, and still..."

"What's that got to do with Richard, though?"

Thunderpetal put the stalk of grass back in his mouth, and talked around it. "Li sets his own leg on fire. It is the fire that burns him, but _only_ when sister-in-law points it out to him. T'li-chi knows that she will be burnt unless _Li-cha_ defies his father. She knows he never will, but she ignores that, like Li ignores that his leg is on fire. You, _Ni-chi_ , break the spell. And that is why _T'li-chi_ is annoyed with you." 

 

They found that they had caught up with Trixie, who had stopped. The rest of the caravan came to a stop.

"What's up, short stuff?" said Raven.

Trixie pointed ahead. "Fight going on there. Undead against someone big. Can't tell who."

"Undead?" Thunderpetal looked ahead. "What are they?"

"Corpses brought back to life by dark magic," said Raven. Her face looked tight, angry. "Not nice. I don't like undead."

Nix jumped down. His strider folded itself up. "Let's go remind them they're dead."

They walked forward, quickly but carefully. A group of grey-clad, grey-skinned ghouls were attacking a knight in heavy armour. The knight was hacking at them with a heavy war axe, but several of the ghouls were holding on to his arms. Some of the undead were no more than skeletons, surrounded by a ghastly green glow. They were using swords, daggers, shining with a pale light. Some of them were wearing bits of armour. If nothing happened, the knight was, to use a technical term, doomed.

Trixie tapped Thunderpetal's leg. "Ever fight undead before?"

"No."

"Go for the neck. Breaking their spine makes them immobile. Fire works well, too. They're not very fast, but once they grab you, they don't let go. Keep them away from your throat. Raven, stay back."

"Stuff you, squirt," said Raven, drawing two daggers. "I'm not as useless as you think I am."

Nix and Raven disappeared into the shadows. Thunderpetal reached into his bag for a battle brew and flipped the cork off. Trixie pulled out her sword.

Thunderpetal wrapped the rope on his keg round his hand, then jumped forward, rolling head over heels. He leapt to his feet in the middle of the group of undead and swung the keg round on its rope. Brew splashed over all the undead. Thunderpetal spat out flammable brew and set it on fire. All the ghouls ignited in flame, and there was a dry, unworldly sound of agony. It seemed to be enough to draw the undead creatures' attention. Thunderpetal slowly walked backwards, with the ghouls and skeletons following him. Whenever one came too close, his staff struck out, sending them reeling back.

Trixie yelled, and rushed forward. The skeletons were too tall for her to reach their backbones, so she chopped their legs from under them first. Her two-handed sword danced in her hands as she dismembered the enemies where they stood. There was a horrible rattle of breath behind her, and a skeletal hand grabbed Trixie's shoulder. With a yell, she tried to pull free, but she couldn't. Another hand felt for her throat. She batted it away, but it came back. Trixie tried to swing her sword round, but she couldn't hit hard without decapitating herself as well. The skeleton reached for her throat again, unable to feel fear, unable to feel anything except for its purpose.

With a noise no louder than a breath of wind, Raven appeared behind the skeleton, one dagger entering its skull at the neck, the other piercing its spine with a dry crack. She twisted both daggers with a vicious snarl, and the skeleton collapsed to the ground in a cascade of bones, the magic that held them broken. The skeleton's hand was still on Trixie's shoulder, bones sticking up. She grabbed it and jerked it away. Raven bent down to her, with a look in her eyes that would have made poor little Aubrey faint with fear.

"Watch your back, squirt."

"Thanks," said Trixie.

They looked up to see Thunderpetal turn round on one foot, and kick a ghoul back with such force that it landed ten feet away in a mess of bones and rotten skin. Nix leapt onto its back, and stabbed it twice. He got up, and looked round.

"I think we're out of undead," he said.

"For now," said Raven.

Thunderpetal stood up straight, eyes closed, slowly breathing out, concentrating. Then, he opened his eyes and looked round.

"Is the big knight good?"

They walked over to have a better look. The knight was pulling bits of ghoul off him. The first thing they noticed was his sheer size. The second thing was the horns above his face.

"It's a Tauren," said Trixie, not putting away her sword just yet. Tauren were Horde. Enemies.

Raven flipped one of her daggers in the air and caught it. She grinned at the large bull-like creature.

"Steak! Thunderpetal, break out the barbecue!"

"Quality steak must mature," said Thunderpetal. "He is too fresh."

Thunderpetal put his staff on his back, walked over to the Tauren and bowed to him.

"Greetings, great being. My name is Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. What is yours?"

The Tauren picked up his war axe. Thunderpetal didn't even blink. The tauren put the axe on his back. He closed his eyes, and bowed his head.

"Bydlo," he said, surprisingly quietly.

"Here are _Ni-chi_ , _T'li-chi_ and _Lei-huen_ ," said Thunderpetal, pointing. "Are you hurt? We are not healers, but I have a strengthening brew, and bandages if you need them."

"I need no healing," said Bydlo.

Nix looked up. "Hey. Where did a Tauren learn to speak Common?"

"My clan worked for the Druids of the Cenarion Circle. They deal with Horde and Alliance."

Nix looked at the sun in the sky. "It's getting late. We have to be getting on. Darkshire isn't getting any fresher."

"I cannot walk with you," said Bydlo. "Walk with the Earth-mother."

And without another word, the big Tauren turned round, and ran off into the forest. They walked back to where they had left their mounts, and got on.

"He didn't even say thank you," said Raven.

Thunderpetal looked thoughtful, rubbing his chin. He shook his large head. "He does not seem grateful to be alive. There is mystery here." 

* * *

Griggin allowed his daemonic form to fall away. The Daemon dropped from sight and the Circle of Binding winked out of existence. Another failure. These Terrorguards were the most powerful of Daemon warriors. They could be a great asset to the Warlock Circle. Sadly, so far their enthusiasm for killing the things Griggin told them to, was as nothing compared to their enthusiasm for killing the impudent mortal who had summoned them. Still. He now had another twenty methods of binding that didn't work. That was progress, though it didn't look like it to the average layman. Well, the average layman be bothered. Griggin sighed and crossed another few items off the list. He used a Chain of Light to bind his Felguard, Skurikraksha, affectionately referred to by his daughter as "the axe dude". This Terrorguard had broken through that as if it was paper. If it hadn't been for his Circle, then he would have been splattered all over his basement by now, followed by everybody else in Stormwind.

Griggin stretched, and leaned his desk chair back on two legs. If anyone would see him at work, they would probably want to kill him. There were many misconceptions about Warlocks. Most of those misconceptions looked amusing, but weren't. Griggin sneered. What would be the most glaringly stupid thing? So many to choose from. Daemons being the Warlock's friend, perhaps. Imps being comical little helpers. Griggin shook his head. One of the notions about Daemons stood head, shoulders, and indeed breasts, above the rest. Succubi. And now, Shivarra. Phoar. Look at the knockers on _that_ one. Yes, you ignorant git. That's what they're there for. Distraction. The Shivarra could hold an enemy by mesmerising them with bright lights. Succubi went straight for the groin. Griggin had once met a Paladin woman in a fight against the Horde. Griggin had tried to warn her, but she had laughed at him, and the weak men who'd let themselves be seduced. A Horde Succubus, rightly perceiving her to be the greatest threat, had worked its magic on her. She had simply stood there staring, saliva running from her mouth, wetting herself. Griggin had blasted the Succubus' form away with soul-fire, and the Paladin woman had continued fighting with her face red with shame, and everyone but Griggin laughing at her.

Griggin had sat with her afterwards, holding her hand, trying to convince her that it wasn't her fault. A person's sex drive, to the Succubi, was merely one of the avenues of attack. To the victim, it could easily touch their very identity. The Paladin woman had died in another place, another fight. Griggin had never found out whether she had been able to work through the experience.

Young miss Raven had been the victim of a similar attack, years ago, in Ironforge. Griggin's apprentice had fallen, and tried to use Raven to kill his family. The attempt had failed, and Raven had bounced back admirably. Still, Griggin could probably remind her with a single word.

So many things about people's minds could be used against them. There was a religious pacifist sect somewhere in the Hinterlands. Their commitment to non-violence was admirable. It is easy to be non-violent if there are soldiers there to protect you, but these people would not even allow others to fight on their behalf. The worst punishment they administered was simply to ignore the errant member of their community, to the point that they might as well be ghosts. Griggin could understand well what a terrible punishment it was. It deprived the victim of a basic need for companionship. Griggin still hadn't decided whether a savage whipping would have been more, or less cruel.

Daemons, ignorant as they might be of all things that made people... _people_ , things like mercy, laughter, friendship, and peace, knew all too well the things that would destroy someone. Hatred. Greed. Unchecked lust. Indifference. As a Warlock, Griggin's mind was under permanent attack. He could block out the voices with mental techniques, even in his sleep. He would have gone insane long ago if he couldn't. And still, every one of his moral values was being challenged in his every waking moment.

Griggin sighed, put away his book, and walked up the stairs. He needed some light. 

* * *

"It's dark here," said Raven.

"That's why they call it Duskwood," said Trixie. After their encounter with Bydlo, she had rejoined the group. "The invasion of undead did something to the trees, or the grass, I think. It's a kind of smoke."

"I read about an assault of Orcs on a big city, said Nix. "Before they struck, they sent over a great big dark cloud, to darken heart and counsel."

"Fat chance," said Raven. "I _like_ dark."

"What?" said Trixie. "Dark things move, preying upon the careless and the innocent. There's no telling what nameless horrors lie in the shadows."

"Yes there is," said Raven, with a grin. "Me."

"You're not a nameless horror," said Trixie. "You're more of a hiccups cure."

Raven laughed, with a side glance at Trixie. "There's only one answer to that."

"Yeah? What?"

Raven maneuvered her ram closer to Trixie, then bent over to her.

"Boo." 

 

They rode on along the road to Darkshire, a town that was once called Grand Hamlet, before all the trouble with the undead and worgen. Sadly, even though times were dire, the town had been thrown back on its own resources, due to Stormwind's armies being drawn off to the conflict with the Horde. Because of this, the Darkshire Night Watch, under the capable leadership of Althea Ebonlocke, was happy with anyone who wanted to lend a hand. This included Warlocks, religious zealots of the Scarlet Crusade, and in one of life's little ironies, a number of Worgen from Gilneas who had no objection to slaughtering their erstwhile brethren.

There was only one type of adventurer that they were happier to see leave than to see arrive. Luckily, they were a rare and specialised breed of idiots, who would happily do the bidding of an old mad hermit, gathering all kinds of ghastly ingredients for his great spell. Once, he lived at Raven hill Cemetery, a nasty, ghoul-infested graveyard in the West, until he was driven out by the Night Watch. Where he lived now, was a mystery, and anyone asking for a drink called Zombie Juice in the Scarlet Raven inn would find themselves very quickly in the presence of the Night Watch, being asked a few very serious questions.

It was therefore a bit of a disappointment to learn that someone had _again_ seen fit to supply the hermit, named Abercrombie, with all the ingredients needed to stitch together the corpses of about a dozen fallen heroes, jolt it back into life, and send the abomination in the direction of Darkshire. It was in the resulting commotion that Thunderpetal, Nix, Trixie, and Raven arrived in Darkshire.

In the middle of the town square stood a large, _large_ individual. The design had not changed much from the first. A cadaverous body wrapped in miles and miles of dirty linen, stitched together with ghost hair. It wielded a large cleaver in one hand, a sharp hook on a chain in the second, and some kind of club in the third. The Night Watch soldiers were charging in, putting in a few hits, and then quickly retreating as the abomination turned towards them. Trixie looked round the corner of the burning house they were hiding behind.

"We must help them," said Thunderpetal. "The Path requires it of us, that we destroy the manifestations of evil."

"Yeah," said Raven, "No thanks. Did you see how hard that thing hits? The final body count is gonna be more favourable to us if the cute Human chick stays alive."

Trixie grinned at Raven. "Scared?"

"A sound mind in a sound body," said Raven. "And I like it that way."

"Seconded," said Nix. "Damn, I wish Dad was here. He'd have turned it into a smoking heap by now. I get hit once by it, and Spud's going to be a pre-natal orphan."

"I do not say that we should impale ourselves on its weapons," said Thunderpetal. "That is not the way of the _Tushui_. A _Huojin_ would be fighting it now, but careful consideration is foreign to them."

"I'm going to rush out and hit it," said Trixie.

"Attack pattern Omega," said Nix. "I _hate_ that one."

"Huh?" said Raven, always the inquisitive one.

"Basically rush out, hit anything non-Steambender that moves until it stops moving. Scares the crap out of me every time we use it."

Thunderpetal looked at the abomination fighting through narrowing eyes. "The creature can strike out in three directions at once. But it can only _think_ of one target. We need to strike it all together, from all sides. The _Chiu-man_ do it right, but they need more bodies."

"Like I said," said Trixie. "Come on! Hit it already!" 

 

At that moment, there was a great bellow, and a thundering of hooves. Axe in hand, the massive bulk of Bydlo the Tauren rushed forward, and stamped on the ground in front of the abomination. He started to chop at it with huge swings of the axe. The abomination belched, giving off a poisonous stench. It swung round the hook-and-chain. The sharp hook caught on Bydlo's arm, cut through and sent his axe, hand still grasping it, flying. Bydlo breathed in, and bellowed. With the blood spouting from the stump of his arm, he charged forward, grabbed the creature by the throat. He drew his great head back, then thrust it forward. His horns pierced the abomination's face. It screamed, and its sharp weapons swung round, striking Bydlo's arm and chest. Once more, Bydlo pulled back his head and pierced the abomination's skull. With a final, disgusting noise, the abomination collapsed, Bydlo fell down on top of him. His legs moved feebly.

Trixie was the first to react. She sprinted forward. With a cry, Thunderpetal leapt to his feet and ran towards the fight. Dazed Humans stood around, not sure of what to make of all these newcomers. Thunderpetal turned over the huge Tauren with one jerk, untied the piece of rope he used as a belt, and tied it round Bydlo's wounded arm. With a stray bone from the abomination as a lever, he tightened it. Then, he looked at the Tauren's face, and he simply stopped and stared. With blood streaming from all his wounds, Bydlo was smiling, smiling with a joy that knew no bounds, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Bydlo!" Thunderpetal shook him.

The Tauren laughed, coughed up blood, then laughed again.

"Not Bydlo," he said. "Ketonga. Ketonga Firewind."

The big Tauren whose name was not Bydlo looked at Thunderpetal. He raised his large, three-fingered hand to his neck, and pulled off a necklace. He put it into Thunderpetal's hand.

"My friend, though I meet you at the end of my life, do this for me. My clan is at the entrance to Stranglethorn Vale. Show them this necklace. Tell them..." He coughed, and his eyes closed. "Tell them. Ketonga Firewind... fought to his last breath. Promise me this, Friend."

"You have my word," said Thunderpetal.

Ketonga Firewind's chest stopped moving, and his face became still. 

 

Thunderpetal looked up. A dark-haired woman wearing chainmail was shouting at a man from three inches away.

"And whose bright idea was it to hand this stupid bastard more zombie juice? Why are we even carrying it at the Raven?"

"Because it is the world's most powerful antidote to the curse, as well you know! Want me to pour it down the sink? Fine by me, but then don't come whining to me when you've got a _really_ bad hair day."

"From now on, everyone, _everyone_ asking for..." 

 

Thunderpetal stopped listening, and looked at the necklace in his hand. It was a leather thong, strung with wooden beads. Simple but elegant carvings were on a central plate of ivory. He stood up.

"Friends, we have a job to do." 

* * *

Raven peered out from some shrubs next to the road. She pulled back to rejoin the group. 

"Ten of them. Three warriors, two Shaman, Three Druids, and two hunters." She looked at Nix, raised her hands and wiggled her fingers at him. " _Human_ numbers. The missing ones are eight and nine. Learn them. Love them."

"Only good for counting money," said Nix. "That's a traditional raiding party. No mothers with children, not enough hunters for gathering meat. Thunderpetal, are you _sure_ you want to do this? If things turn nasty, we can't do much."

"I am on a peaceful mission," said Thunderpetal. "I bring news of Bydlo."

Trixie looked worried. "It's a Horde war party. If they see us, they'll splat us. You're Alliance too, remember?"

"They cannot see that by my face," said Thunderpetal. "I must go."

"Right." Nix rummaged in his pack, and produced a pair of goggles and three dark metal globes with a Big Red Button on top. One of these, he handed to Raven.

"Smoke bombs with an added bang. These are the ones with a four-second fuse. Stealth up. I'll go left, you go right. Thunderpetal, walk in. If things go tits up, we'll throw in the smoke bombs, and you run like shit off a shiny shovel. You won't be able to see, so don't forget where you came from. Raven? One, two, throw, duck, bang."

"Got it. That's a bit quick, though."

"Used to make them with twelve second fuses. I gave one to an Elf once. Guess what happened?"

"Heh. Four seconds it is." 

 

Despite his confidence that he was doing the right thing, Thunderpetal's stomach tied itself in knots when he walked up to the Tauren. His staff was in his hand, and he was leaning on it as though his leg hurt them. He was going slowly, to show he was a harmless pilgrim, not a threat.

One of the Tauren noticed him, and warned the others. The largest Tauren stood up, and raised his hand.

"Halt," said the Tauren, or words to that effect.

Thunderpetal raised his hand, to show he had no weapons.

"I come in peace." he said.

The Tauren snorted. "You come in peace, speaking the language of the B'taq."

"I am Pandaren," said Thunderpetal. "The quarrels between _To-luen_ and _Chiu-man_ do not concern me."

"So you say. What do you want?"

"I bring news of one of you, named Bydlo."

At this, several horned heads turned to him, with none too kind expressions on the bovine faces, as far as Thunderpetal was any judge. Thunderpetal produced Bydlo's necklace and gave it to the Tauren leader.

"He is dead. Before he dies, he tells me his true name is Ketonga Firewind."

"Ketonga..." one of the other Tauren spoke up, but the leader silenced him with a look.

"First thing, Pandaren," said the Leader. "Unless you are looking for a fight, do not call any Tauren Bydlo."

"He calls _himself_ that," said Thunderpetal.

The leader shook his head. "In _Taura-he_ , Bydlo means 'Cattle'. This is not a good thing to call a Tauren. Unless you wish to die."

"Then why does he call himself Bydlo?"

" _We_ call him that."

"Ketonga is big and strong. Do _you_ wish to die?"

"Ketonga disgraced himself, and brought shame to the Clan. He was given that name as punishment."

"How does he bring shame to the clan?"

"We sent him, and others, to the war against the Night-elves. Their orders were to take their position, or die in the attempt. But the Night-elves were aided by the Humans of Theramore, and they defeated us. All of our warriors fought to their last breath, as they had sworn. But not Ketonga. He surrendered himself. The Night-elves allowed him to live, and he came back to us. Then, we took his name away from him and gave him the name of Bydlo, for submitting like a senseless beast."

The leader turned to his clansmen, and held up the necklace. "Ketonga Firewind has fought to his last breath. He fulfilled his oath. He shall be called Bydlo no more. Ketonga!"

In one voice, all the Tauren repeated the name. "Ketonga!"

The Tauren leader turned back to Thunderpetal. "Thank you, Panda-ren, for this news. Our clansman now hunts with the Ancestors."

Thunderpetal looked up to the Tauren, shaking with anger.

"Stupid." He pulled the reins for his riding tortoise from his bag, and summoned it. He got on. "Stupid," he said again. "Stupid. _Stupid_! Stupid _To-luen_!"

And Thunderpetal let out the reins and his tortoise ran back towards Duskwood. 

 

They caught up with Thunderpetal half way to Darkshire. This was the first time they had seen him this angry. Even when fighting, there was a sense of unshakable calm about him. Not so now.

Trixie pulled ahead of Thunderpetal, and waved. "Hey Fuzzball, what's up?"

Thunderpetal's gaze seemed to withdraw from a place of great anger, and focused on Trixie.

"They call him _cow_. _Cattle_ , they call him. That is what 'Bydlo' means. And why? Because he does a sensible thing! He sees many Kel-do-lei and Chiu-man against him, and sees he cannot win. So he gives up. The To-luen blame him for _living_! I can see Ketonga is brave, strong, a friend to be proud of. He does not deserve this."

Thunderpetal fell silent for a moment, staring in front of him with a fierce scowl, muttering to himself.

"There is a river in front of our house in Pandaria. In the river is a big rock. I sit on it and fish sometimes. The water can not flow _through_ the rock. The water is not strong enough to wash the rock away. And still, strangely, there is water downstream of the rock."

"It flows round the rock," said Trixie.

"Yes! You see," said Thunderpetal. "There is always a way. Back in the time of my ancestors, the Mogu rule Pandaria. They are big, strong, cruel. The strongest in all Pandaria, and they treat Panda-ren, and all other people, like... like _playthings_. Slaves. We Panda-ren are strong, but not strong enough. Then, finally, the Mogu come to our house, and demand that my Honoured Ancestor works for them. Give them all the crops in his field that he works hard to raise. So what does he do?"

Trixie raised a fist. "Kick their butt? Use his killer moves on them?"

"He _kowtows_ to them! Bows to them, give them all they want, because they are too strong for him. Even if he can defeat _these_ Mogu, there are many others, and he can not move his crops. He has to stay. So he stays, and lives. The Mogu take away our swords, and bows, and spears, and only let us have farming tools. And we grovel, and till the earth, until they think we are no more dangerous than worms."

Thunderpetal took his staff from his back, and held it up for the others to see.

"This is my weapon. It is a good weapon, yet it is simply a stick. Do you know how many sticks there are on a farm?"

Raven laughed. "Sorry Thunderpetal. City girl here. I only realised when I was twelve that the pigs in my book, and the bacon on my plate were the _same_ _thing_! Turned vegetarian for a bit then. Eating Mr. Porky was almost cannibalism."

"So what turned you back, then?" said Trixie.

"Realising Mr. Porky was... delicious."

Thunderpetal looked at the girls, seemed to calm down a bit.

"Shovels for digging. Pitch-forks for clearing out cow-dung. Flails for pounding the rice. Pokers for stoking the cooking fires. Some of these things, you can use as a weapon as they are. Some you can turn into a weapon in the time it takes to boil noodles. And the Mogu see us slaving for them, and they spit on us, never realising that we are an army, and a well-armed one at that."

Nix slowly started to smile. "That must have been a bit of a shock."

"We wait, and like the blade of grass can grow through stone, we destroy them. With swords made of plowshares, and the knowledge of how to use them. We beat them to powder with flails, stab them with pitch-forks. And now the Pandaren live, and prosper, and the Mogu are no more. And here I am." Thunderpetal looked in turn at Raven, Nix, Trixie. "I travel in a beautiful world, with something wonderful round every turn. I eat good food, am with good new friends."

Thunderpetal's smile slowly faded. "If my Ancestor had fought till his last breath. Do you think I would be here now? I choose well, when I choose the path of the _Tushui_. I choose well to follow Teacher Aysa Cloudsinger. I choose well to join the Alliance, and I am blessed to have you as my friends." 


	8. Promenade IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, they didn’t say they were coming, but is that any reason to draw steel on them? On reflection, probably, yes it is.

"Look, the place has a bit of a name, that's all I'm saying."

"Really?"

"Draenei women dancing on top of the post boxes in their underwear, sort of thing. They're having to draw up schedules for barfights."

"Draenei chicks can't hold their liquor. Someone ought to protect them from themselves."

"I know only one Draenei chick, and let me tell you, you _don't_ want to get into a drinking contest with _her_. She can drink a Dwarf under the table."

"Well, at least let's stop there long enough to check my mail. I want to know if there's any news from Shaw."

"Shaw? Mathias Shaw? SI:7 Mathias Shaw?"

"Yeah. He said he'd send word when they caught Baltar."

"They use the mail? I'd think a note saying 'The Coast Is Clear' pinned to your chest with a dagger would be more their style."

"Only for the undead ones. Now stop whingeing about the place and let me get my mail."

Raven rode up to the Lion's Pride Inn. At this very moment, it was not living up to its name as a place of sin and debauchery, and Raven could just walk to the mailbox without being propositioned, assaulted, challenged to duels, or offered non-recommended substances. Fancy that. She touched her hearthstone to the mailbox, and her face fell.

"Nothing?" asked Nix.

Raven shook her head. "Means he's still out there somewhere."

Trixie stepped up. "Hole up at Steambender Manor if you want. I'm sure Mum won't mind."

"Our tents are not very protective," said Thunderpetal. "And many people come and go. If people look for you, you are not safe."

"Also, don't knock our home," said Nix. "We kept out the zombies during the plague, using only the house defences."

Raven got back on her ram, and pulled her hood over her face.

"Don't fancy heading out again. Are you sure Lenna won't mind?"

"Not a problem," said Trixie. 

 

Raven had to go down on her hands and knees to enter, but inside, she could move about in a sort of crouch, as Steambender Manor was once used by Dwarves of Ironforge as a shipwright's office. Interalia was in the living room, setting the table. Seeing Raven, she made her way to the cupboard and put out another plate.

"Hi Raven. Hi guys. It's just us four tonight. Boilerman and Lenna are taking the little one to the mage trainers. Fuzzball not coming?"

Nix dropped the bag of engine parts on the floor in the hallway and walked up to Interalia. "Said he had to go and report to his Teacher." He put his arms round Interalia and kissed her. "How's Spud?"

"Alive and kicking," said Interalia. "Gonna get a slap in the butt when he comes out."

Raven looked round the room and pointed. "You still have that table? I remember that from Ironforge."

"Built to last," said Trixie. "What's for dinner?"

"Go peel spuds," said Interalia. "Making a stew. Nix, go get some pork out of the freezer. Raven? Carrots. Washed and sliced."

Trixie grinned. "Training the Mummy Voice?"

"And I'll have none of _that_ , young lady," said Interalia. "Hop to it."

"Yes, O Great One."

"Was that a _fat_ joke?" 

 

The stew was a mere memory. They were sitting round the table with cups of coffee from the highly advanced coffee machine that had nearly cost Griggin his marriage when he bought it. Raven looked round. She'd only once been in Steambender Manor 2.0, back in Ironforge. She recognised a few pieces of furniture, like this table and the wall cupboard that young Bieslook had broken into so she could feed her biscuits.

"Do you still play that weird game?"

"Sure," said Interalia. "Bieslook is getting good at it."

"And I didn't even have to say which weird game."

"It's not exactly _weird_ ," said Nix. "It's a metaphor on life."

"What? Riding from one place to the other on little carts, and getting up each other's noses?"

Trixie raised her arms and looked up at the ceiling. "Are we all not, in some way, looking for the solace of Mornington Crescent?"

"No," said Raven. "Just a safe place to stay for a while."

Trixie got up. "Let's find you a place to sleep."

Steambender Manor 3.0 overlooked Stormwind Harbour, a relatively new part of the city. Gnomes were lucky in that they didn't need much space, and could fit into small places. A normal-size office, with a few extra partition walls, could be a spacious house. Which was all good and well, but an industrious Gnome needs a workshop to build his water pumps and heaters. Griggin had tried to rent a workshop, but the prices in Stormwind were simply insulting. Extending the house was quite impossible, because of adjoining buildings. So the only way to go was down. So far, there were two levels of basement. The first one was a workshop and a small storeroom. This was the current birthplace of the Optimal Prime range of water heaters that were Griggin Steambender's main source of income. Powered by Un'goro crystals, they provided a near-inexhaustible source of steam or hot water. A rather ridiculously over-powered one was powering the heating, hydraulics and, most importantly, the coffee machine.

The lower basement could only be reached through a pipe with steps. It was dedicated to Griggin's other job, and contained the library of his writings and his summoning circle. To prevent, or at least delay, Daemons breaking out into the light of day, it had sturdy hatches that could be fastened and locked air-tight.

"Want safe?" said Trixie, "That's safe. Nobody and nothing gets in or out."

Raven stared down into the dark hole.

"I'm _not_ sleeping in a cellar. I'm just..." she looked at Trixie. A chill ran up her spine. "Not."

"It's the only part of the house you can stand up in. And it's well lit and ventilated. Go on. Try it."

"I don't like being underground," said Raven. "It reminds me of death."

Interalia put a hand on Raven's leg. "Bunk up with me instead. Nix can get a mattress in for you and we can gossip about him. Did you know him in Ironforge?"

Raven sighed, and a weight seemed to drop off her shoulders. She'd think on how stupid that was later. For now, she just felt relief.

"Oh my, did I? We were in the same class with Trainer Fenthwick. We were pretty close. I can still feel the bruises."

They walked back into the living room.

"Hmm. Like a bit of rough and tumble, do you?"

"What fun is it otherwise?" said Raven, with a grin. "He handcuffed me to the heater once."

"Really? He handcuffed _me_ to a cart." Interalia looked round. "Nix? What is it with you and handcuffing girls to things?"

"Well, if I hadn't, you'd have run away," said Nix, reasonably.

"Sounds like a perfectly good reason to me," said Trixie.

"Tell you what I'll do," said Nix. "Tomorrow, I'll let Shaw know where you are and where to send news. Until they get the bastard, you can stay here and look after my poor pregnant wife."

"What, me? A _nursemaid_? I'm a highly talented operative. That's demeaning!"

"More demeaning than lying on your back moaning with half your clothes off?"

"You make that sound so much more sleazy than it really is," said Raven.

Nix shrugged. "Prostitutes do an honest job. You pay your money, they make you happy."

Raven looked at Nix. What she really wanted to say was that was a bit rich coming from a rogue. But apart from picking his friends' pockets for fun, she hadn't known him actually to steal anything. Nix was probably one of the most decent people she'd ever met. She looked at her feet. Compared to who, exactly?

"When this is over, I'll sell spices for a bit, I think." 

* * *

Griggin poked his head into the door of the living room, where Interalia was instructing Raven on the way to have the coffee machine produce boiling water for tea, without laying waste to Stormwind Harbour.

"Ladies? I'm heading below. While the red light is on, please do not open the hatch."

"Right-o, Boilerman," said Interalia. "Going to be long?"

"Most probably the rest of the day. Powerful creatures from beyond the Void are still refusing to obey my every command."

"Perhaps you could get in a huge magnifying glass," said Raven. "And stand behind it. Make yourself look bigger."

Griggin laughed. "Strangely, you're not that far off from what I really do. Anyway, enjoy your sunshine."

Griggin went below. Raven dropped tea-bags in the pot and lit a tea-light. She asked Interalia where the mugs were, and added them to the tray. She got some milk from the cool-box, added the sugar pot.

"Fancy a cuppa, Interalia?"

Without waiting for an answer, Raven picked up the tray and turned round. She threw the tea tray on the floor and went for her daggers. 

 

Two big men had entered. In the blink of an eye, Raven saw, calculated, judged. Chainmail. Swords. Not scared of her. Noises in the hallway, probably more. Only exits leading into bedrooms. Outside windows not opening.

Interalia stood next to her. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh _shit_." She was shaking in her fluffy slippers. "Miss Raven? What are they going to _do_ to us?"

Raven looked down into Interalia's face, and almost missed it. For a splintered moment, Interalia stopped looking scared. Then, she moved to her chair as quickly as she could, and hid behind it.

"It's _her_ you want! Leave me alone!"

"Gee thanks, short stuff." Raven's eyes narrowed, and she moved sideways, lining up the sword fighters one behind the other. One of them came towards Raven.

"You're gonna die, you little whore."

"Hey _shitheads_!"

Both sword fighters looked round to where Interalia stood, weight balanced between her legs. Her hand shot forward, and one of the men had a knife in his throat. He made a faint movement to grab the handle, then fell to the floor. The other man raised his sword.

"You're going to know if it's a boy or a girl, you little runt."

Raven leapt forward, and stuck one dagger under the man's chin, the other in the gap between chainmail and belt. He crumpled up and Raven jerked her daggers free.

"And you won't," she snarled. She ran to the door, grabbing a chair as she went. She could see people moving outside, but since two of their friends had just died, they were a bit hesitant to come in. Raven slammed the door shut and wedged the chair under it. She looked round at Interalia as people outside started to bang on the door.

"You alright?"

"Fine," said Interalia, with a grim face. She walked over to the dead sword fighter and pulled out her throwing knife. "Can't run, can't fight, can't stealth, but there's nothing wrong with my aim."

Raven gave a little nod. "How solid are those bedroom doors?"

"Very." Interalia grinned. "Mostly sound proof too."

"Great. Get in there, and I'll see if I can sneak out of here and warn Griggin."

"Good luck," said Interalia, and ducked into her bedroom. A moment later, the lock clicked.

Raven looked round. Back at the door, the chair was slowly moving backwards. No time to try a window. She ran to the kitchen, and homed in on the Doomsday Device that was the coffee maker. One of the things that Interalia had warned her about was never to open the steam valve without selecting coffee strength, because with the power of Griggin's heat pump behind it, it would steam up the whole place in seconds. Perfect. She turned the valve. Large clouds of super-heated steam billowed out of the machine, scalding Raven's hand. Swearing onder her breath, she retreated to the other end of the room and waited for the steam to fill the place up. At the door, the chair clattered to the floor. Several people came in, and instinctively drew to the place where the steam was thickest. Raven crept round to the door and disappeared into the hallway. By the door was the little shit who'd been there when Baltar had tortured her. He spotted Raven and yelled his little head off. No time to stab him. Raven sprinted into the hallway. The red light was still on above the hatch. Raven twisted the wheel on top of the hatch, pulled it open and dropped herself in. She climbed down the steps set in the side of the pipe as fast as she could, and dropped to the floor. She stopped, and despite the situation, she stood stock still.

This was a large room. On the high ceiling were bright lights, shining down on a scene out of a bad dream. At the other end of the room stood a monstrous figure, purple, winged. The purple creature was talking to a black winged demon, the colour of molten metal, surrounded by an eerie green circle in which strange runes revolved slowly. They were using a language that sounded like every syllable dripped with pure evil. Raven pressed herself into the wall, wide-eyed. The purple creature saw her. A cloud of smoke revolved round it, and it re-formed in the form of Griggin Steambender, who did not look pleased. Not pleased at all. He raised a hand and called out a single word. The orange Daemon disappeared. So did the green runes. The place looked like a normal cellar again.

"Miss Raven. I may not have made myself quite clear. I am doing very difficult experiments, with forces that, if left unchecked, could put the whole of Azeroth in danger. I need to concentrate, hence the red light. I do not require tea."

"We're under attack," said Raven. "My old gang. They're after me. Interalia's locked in the bedroom. One of them saw me go down the ladder."

At that moment, someone came down. It was one of the lesser thugs, and he was followed by a larger man. They looked, and saw a little Gnome and the girl they were after.

"Gotcha," said the big man, stepping forward.

"And a little Gnome too," said the little one, following.

"They give a funny little squeak when you kill them," said the big one.

The men stepped forward, into Griggin's summoning circle. Griggin raised a hand, and the green barrier sprang into existence with a crackling sound. The men tried running into it, but soon stopped. Griggin stepped up to the barrier.

"You come into my house. You offer violence to my guest and my family. You walk into a Warlock's den. You are too stupid to live."

Griggin closed his eyes, and spoke a few words of power. With a growl, the orange Daemon re-appeared. It turned to its terrified Human cell-mates, then looked at Griggin.

"Kill," said Griggin. "Miss Raven, you may want to look away."

Raven, of course, didn't, and then wished she had. She had to fight to keep her dinner inside. She looked at Griggin, whose face betrayed no emotion at all. He looked back at her.

"I am sorry, Miss Raven. But I cannot have the violent walk into my house and live to tell the tale. I cannot risk word of my activities to get out. Daemonologists are not popular among the general populace of Stormwind."

"Um," said Raven.

Griggin's eyes wrinkled. "You are a friend, Miss Raven. I trust your discretion. Anyway..." Griggin looked at the orange Daemon. "This is the first time I managed to get a Terrorguard to do what I wanted. We may never gain full control, but still, they may have their uses."

Raven coughed a few times to get her voice back. "I think it already wanted to do... that."

"Indeed," said Griggin. "Making sure that its desires and mine are in alignment, is one of the most powerful methods of binding. But anyway. Let us clear Steambender Manor of evildoers, and regroup." 

* * *

Griggin stepped up to the coffee machine and with a resolute gesture pulled the hose out of the steam connection. It would take a little time for the machine to cool down and make coffee. Griggin _wanted_ coffee. There was nobody left in Steambender Manor except the people who lived there. Raven banged on the door to Interalia's bedroom.

"Interalia? It's us, you can come out."

There was no answer from within. Griggin and Raven looked at each other.

" _Interalia_?"

Griggin made a noise, reached in his pocket, and pulled out a key. He opened the door. As soon as he opened it, a throwing knife sailed over Griggin's head. It stuck in the wall on the other side of the living room.

"Ah, Interalia," said Griggin. "Good to see you're alive. Why the throwing knife?"

Interalia came out of the shadows, grinning. "You've got to be at most _this_ tall to live," she said. "All but Gnomes is scum."

"Hey!" said Raven.

"No worries," said Interalia. "You're so skinny, I'd have missed you."

Griggin looked round his living room. Everything was soggy from the steam. Humans had bled all over the carpet, and left their messy corpses just lying around.

"Lenna will not be happy," said Griggin. "Nor, for that matter, will I. Miss Raven, did you say Mr. Mathias Shaw was looking for these people?"

"He is," said Raven.

"Good. Nix can inform him that we have some silent witnesses for his attention." Griggin made a small tour of the room, opening windows and doors to get the place to dry a little. Then, he walked back into the kitchen, licked his finger and touched the coffee maker. Ah. He closed the valve, selected Engineer Strength coffee, plugged the steam hose back in, and set the machine in motion. Precisely one minute, thirty seconds later, a very small cup of pure rocket fuel was in his hand.

"Would anyone else like some? Pressure's up."

"No thanks," said Raven.

"Uh-oh," said Interalia.

"What's up?" Raven looked round, hands on her daggers.

"It's time," said Interalia.

Raven sneered at Interalia, who just stood there with a blank expression on her face. "Time for _what_?"

Interalia simply looked at her, and said nothing.

"Uh-oh," said Raven.

"Oh dear," said Griggin. 


	9. Ballet of the unhatched chicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t post this yesterday because unfortunately, I had to attend the funeral of a colleague. I dedicate this post to his memory. But life goes on, and indeed, life is about to begin for Spud.
> 
> Incidentally, has anyone spotted yet what I’m getting these titles from?

"Ow!"

"Lie down."

"I can't lie down! The house is full of dead Humans!"

"Never you mind. You've got stuff to do!"

"I don't want the first thing that my child sees to be a heap of dead bodies!"

"Look. Infants can't see further than maybe one foot. It won't see a thing of all this."

Interalia glared at Raven. "You are not getting the point."

"No, _you_ aren't getting the point. Are you going to drag dead bodies all over the place _when your water's already broken?_ Leave that to Griggin. Get in bed."

Interalia opened her mouth to argue, then accepted the inevitable and gently lowered herself onto the bed. Griggin poked his head round the door.

"Interalia? Miss Raven? I'll need to summon some help. I need Nix, Sister Springwater, probably not Lenna just yet; she is looking after Bieslook."

"Go to Mathias Shaw first," said Raven. "He'll want to know about our guests. And he can probably help getting rid of them."

"I will do that. Meanwhile, please come with me for a minute."

Griggin took Raven to the front door and pointed at a small equipment locker.

"These are the controls to the house defences. When I'm gone, pull this lever. That will bar all the windows and doors, and activate the doorstep sanitiser."

Raven looked. "Doorstep sanitiser."

"Indeed," said Griggin. "Now when someone walks up to the door, they will trip the trigger plate, and the alarm will go off. When that happens, look through the periscope here." Griggin pointed at a pair of lenses. "If you do not like what you see, lift the lid on this control marked _STERILISE_ , turn it clockwise one full turn, then press and hold it for three seconds."

"Lift lid, turn, press and hold. Got it. Wouldn't it be easier just to have a big red button to bash?"

Griggin gave a little grunt. "That's what it used to be. I've had to idiot-proof that design a bit. Turn on the machine when I'm out."

"Um... How do I open the door if it's good people?"

"Ah. Push the lever the other way. You can also open just the door by turning the valve next to it. Now sit tight, Miss Raven. Help is under way." 

 

Raven handed Interalia a steaming mug of tea, on the grounds that it couldn't hurt, and fussed a bit with her blankets. Interalia suddenly winced. Raven took the tea out of her hands, and handed it back a few moments later.

"Ow," said Interalia. "Damn. Forgot to time it."

"Fifteen minutes," said Raven. "Relax, you've got a while to go yet."

"What do _you_ know about this anyway?"

"I was in a maternity ward once."

"What?" Interalia looked at Raven. "You were a _nurse_?"

"Not... exactly," said Raven. "Long story."

Interalia gave Raven a friendly look. Friendly but persistent.

"I wasn't on the medical staff."

Interalia smiled.

"Alright, I was nicking the medical supplies and I had to hide. So I stuck a pillow up my shirt and got into one of the beds. Saw at least six new arrivals before I got away."

Interalia fell back into the pillows laughing. "You got away with that?"

Raven studied her fingernails. "All it takes is a little acting talent. Anyway, Humans don't start pushing until the contractions are about two minutes apart and last for, oh, a little over half a minute. What it is for Gnomes, I don't know. Anyway, it's going to be more painful, more often, and last longer."

Interalia blew on her tea. "Your bedside manner really stinks."

Raven pulled a chair to the wall, sat down on it and leant back.

"What am I, a healer?" 

* * *

"Who wants to know?" The man at the entrance of SI:7 fixed Griggin with a carefully practiced nonchalant stare.

"If you have to ask, you're not as good as I gave you credit for," said Griggin. "Now please let me talk to Mathias Shaw. I have important news for him."

"Do you think the Boss talks to little runts like you? Give the news to me, and I'll see that he gets it."

"Has no trouble talking to _me_ , Dobson." A green man about Griggin's height walked up. "Don't you _like_ short people?"

The man quickly turned round, stood to attention.

"Nosir. I mean yessir!"

"Ye gods, Dobson. Your answer is to make yourself as tall as possible? I ought to kick your butt for that. Get out of my face for a while, will ya?"

Dobson's brain kicked in, and he made himself scarce as only a Rogue can. The Goblin shook his head and turned to Griggin.

"Sorry about that. He's new. First couple of weeks, they all think they're starring in a Sentinel novel. I'm Renzik. What can I do for you?"

"Griggin Steambender at your service. I have some news about the gang who have been operating out of the Old Barracks. I understand Mr. Shaw takes a personal interest."

Renzik laughed. "Oh _those_ pillocks. He sure does. What with the new Horde initiatives, Theramore falling, and Anduin Wrynn going missing in Pandaria, we're a bit stretched, so the boss kindly took it on himself to lend a hand in the case involving a pretty Human girl."

"She is lucky that she still is, Mr. Renzik. We let her stay in our house, and we were attacked."

Renzik sneered. "Oh that is a bit of a bugger. Everyone alright?"

"My daughter-in-law is having a baby," said Griggin. "Apart from that, only the attackers got hurt. I have two dead bodies for your forensic experts to squint over." Griggin carefully forgot to mention the mess of organic matter in his basement. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of SI:7 operatives prying in there.

"Hang on, that takes nine months, doesn't it?"

Griggin's eyes narrowed. "Anything between one hour and twenty from the moment the waters break. Now could you please see to it that my house is cleared of Human remains? I have to find my son and a priestess." 

* * *

Nix was sitting in the front of a classroom, which was a survival technique. All the teachers instinctively expected the troublemakers to be in the back, and focused all their attention on that side, mostly oblivious to what was going on right under their noses. They were being instructed on the political situation in Kalimdor, which was currently in a state of upheaval. Now that Deathwing had been defeated, the Orc leader, Garrosh Hellscream, had unilaterally declared the uneasy truce between Horde and Alliance over, and reduced the Human settlement of Theramore to piles of rubble. The Theramore leader, Jaina Proudmoore, had escaped with her life and was now bringing her considerable political influence to bear on the Kirin Tor who ruled Dalaran. Things were about to get interesting, and of course, it fell to Rogues of all sort to make sense of all the machinations and happenings. Nix was making careful notes for Interalia, who had been in here as long as her pregnancy allowed.

There was a knock on the door, and the teacher looked round, annoyed. Griggin stood in the doorway.

"Pardon the interruption, Mrs. Band. I need Nix to come home, please."

"And why would that be?"

Nix closed his book, dropped his things in his bag and got up.

"Interalia. Gone into labour, has she Dad?"

"Indeed," said Griggin. "I'll fill you in on the way to the Cathedral."

They ran out. When they were out of earshot of anyone who mattered, Griggin turned round and stopped Nix.

"Nix, before we start rushing about, there's something you need to know."

Nix' face froze. "Interalia. Is she alright?"

"Yes, yes. As right as it is possible to be under the circumstances. The Manor was attacked. Miss Raven and Interalia repelled the attack. I was below, working."

"They attacked our home," said Nix. "They attacked my wife. My child." Nix' voice was perfectly steady, his face as still as a statue.

"That," he said, "is not on." 

* * *

Bieslook stood on a stool in a booth at the targeting range and raised her hands towards the target.

"Woosh," she said.

A perfect globe of plasma shot from between her hands to one of the empty bottles sitting on the brick wall, and sent it flying in a shower of shards. Quickly and neatly, the other bottles followed.

"Good shooting, Bies," said Lenna. "Now keep the power down, and keep up hitting just the bottles you want."

"Yes, Lenna."

Lenna walked out, put up another row of bottles, and walked back for Bieslook to retry. Other mages used the training dummies, which they could make last longer, but Lenna didn't want Bieslook to be shooting at pretend people. She'd gone to the Alchemists' Guild, and got from them a very large box of vials, bottles, and beakers that had failed their quality checks. They'd be thrown away anyway, and they made perfect targets. She watched Bieslook anxiously, ready to stop her if she'd over-exert herself. Though Lenna loved Bieslook as much as her own children, she was not hers. When Bieslook and her father, Vernon Sparkmantle, had to make their escape from Gnomeregan, years ago, he had taught Bieslook two high-powered spells to defend herself. Children her age should never have learnt that kind of magic, because only a mature, practiced mind could handle the energies involved. But it had been an act of desperation on Vernon's part. He had been overwhelmed by enemies, and the only way to keep Bieslook safe was to teach her, then sacrifice himself in a massive blaze of destruction. Griggin, on his way out of Gnomeregan, had found her, with singed clothes, under a bed in the dormitory. Bieslook's only family, her uncle Eustace, or Magis Sparkmantle, could not take her in, so Bieslook had stayed with the Steambenders. Only now, with careful training from Lenna and her teacher Jennea Cannon, was Bieslook able to control the energies enough so that she could cast fire spells without getting the terrible headaches she did.

"Again, Bies. See if you can knock just the tops off this time."

"Yes, Lenna," said Bieslook, and raised her arms again. "Fireballs at dawn!"

Lenna chuckled to herself. Fireballs At Dawn was a regular punishment threatened on the flock. She never really shot fireballs at her children, no matter how much they deserved it sometimes. But Bieslook was a spunge for phrases like that, and it had stuck. She watched Bieslook take the tops off the bottles. She was a good shot with her low-powered fireballs. Once control had become second nature to her, they could start allowing her to use more power again. That would likely take several years, though. For now, it was just a game.

The door opened, and Jennea Cannon walked in, looking worried.

"Lenna? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," said Lenna. "Bies? Hold your fire for a bit. What's up Miss Jennea?"

"Your husband was just here, and..."

"Oh my goodness. Interalia is popping? I'll get my things. Bies! We're heading home!"

Jennea Cannon raised her hand. "Wait! Don't go home. Mr. Steambender asks you to stay away for a while. There was, and I quote, 'An ultimately _unsuccessful_ attack on the manor.' He told me to stress that. Unsuccessful. Apparently, the house defences are up and nobody can get in."

"That's nice," said Lenna. "So who's going to deliver the baby?"

"As I understand it, help is under way," said Jennea Cotton.

Lenna looked up at the woman, twice her own height. She thought for a while, then laughed to herself. "Griggin's run off his feet, or he would have come in. He doesn't want to argue with me now. He'll have told Nix first because Daddy trumps even Granny. If there's been an attack on the Manor, he needs to alert the guards. Interalia is home. He's out, so Raven's home with her. My husband, are you going for the guards or the priestess?" Lenna rubbed her chin thoughtfully for a while. "Priestess. They need to get rid of the attackers first, and they're locked in. Nix will get in there with the cavalry, then Griggin will arrive when the coast is clear. Now what do I do?"

"Lenna. It sounds like they have things under control. The first priority is to keep little Bieslook safe, so she doesn't get involved in all this."

Lenna grinned. "Oh thank you, Miss Jennea. That is a most generous offer. Bieslook? Miss Jennea is going to help you make more pretty lights while I go and talk to Griggin. Now what do we say to the nice lady?"

Bieslook bounced up and down, waving her arms in the air. "Thank you miss, thank you!"

Lenna grabbed her staff, waved, and ran out of the door.

Jennea Cannon looked at the young Gnome girl. The young _adorable_ Gnome girl, and her bright blue eyes. She went down on one knee.

"Little girl, I'm going to teach you a spell. Lenna will be so proud of you if you learn it, but it's very simple. Want to know the magic words?"

Bieslook's eyes shone. "Oh _yes_ Miss. Yes please!"

"Good. These are the magic words. Repeat after me." Jennea Cannon grinned with pure malice. "I want a pony. I want a pony." 

* * *

Thunderpetal was walking back to the Pandaren camp from Old Town. He'd be travelling a lot, so he wanted to make a few stacks of pounded rice cakes for the journey. While it was true that you needed only the rice to make them, Thunderpetal liked to make them a bit more interesting to eat with a few herbs and spices. He'd just found an unknown variety of garlic in Mrs. Fadeleaf's herb store, and he was quite looking forward to experimenting with it.

As he passed in front of the entrance to the Deeprun Tram, he saw Trixie sitting on a rain barrel, watching the entrance. He walked over.

"Good day, _T'li-chi_. Smell this. Does it not make you hungry?"

Trixie looked up. "Garlic," she said.

Thunderpetal looked her over carefully, then sat down next to her.

"Not just any garlic! They are Mrs. Fadeleaf's roasted _Allium_ _Ursinum_. We grow much garlic in Pandaria, but it is warmer there than it is here, and plants here grow slower, which does the flavour much good."

"Ah," said Trixie.

"Come with me, and you can taste my rice cakes. Cooking is better when someone shares the food with you."

Trixie took a deep breath, looked at the entrance to the Deeprun Tram and sighed. Thunderpetal gently put his big hand on Trixie's shoulder. Trixie looked up at him, too hard and tough and badass to cry.

"Tell me of _Li-cha_."

"What's the point? Can't have him. His father says no."

"I have learnt the wisdom of a thousand emperors. One of them must have had your trouble."

Trixie looked up, saying nothing. Thunderpetal leant over to her.

"And all of them are dead for a long time, so you can ignore them without offending them. Some of them are full of hozen dung anyway."

Trixie snorted, shook her head. Her eyes returned to the Tram. She pointed.

"That tunnel goes all the way to Ironforge. There's a train running in it. Takes you into the Dwarf city within the hour. If it runs."

"A great work," said Thunderpetal.

"When it was just new, one of my Dad's apprentices had gone bad. Taken my Mum into one of the old tunnel borers. He was going to kill her to get at my Dad. Richard and Nix and me pulled her out of there." Trixie looked up into Thunderpetal's eyes. "Richard just walked in there with me. No questions. We all could have died there. Spent a lot of time dying there, too. That Bezoar was a right nasty git. He had a few close calls at Sentinel Hill, too. I've seen the scars."

" _Li-cha_ has the courage of the best of the _No-mu_ ," said Thunderpetal. "I meet him only briefly, before you take him away to do things that wise Monks do not comment on, but that I can see."

Trixie stared into the tunnel. "So if he's so brave... why doesn't he just tell his dad that I'm his girlfriend?"

Thunderpetal reached into his bag, and pulled out a packet of ginger and chocolate biscuits. He offered one to Trixie. She shook her head. Thunderpetal pulled a gruff face.

"I forgive you for not knowing, but to refuse food from a Pandaren is a grave insult. Have the biscuit, or prepare to fight."

Trixie looked at him. Then, she gave a snort of laughter and took one. Thunderpetal had one as well. Thinking was always easier while chewing something.

"You ask much of _Li-cha_. To defy one's ancestors, is a grave matter. When we visit Master Wu Shen, you and _Il-hsa_ speak of learning talents of... Fury? This is something you wish to do, yes?"

"Oh yeah! You can do all kinds of cool stuff when you're fury!"

"But _Guli-jin_ does not want you to."

"He says it'll make me too aggressive. Which is a load of..." Trixie swallowed the rest of her words. Thunderpetal smiled.

"Hozen dung? It is not easy to show disrespect, or is it? Why do you not simply find a teacher in Ironforge to teach you? All it takes is some money. You have money, yes?"

Trixie's eyes grew large. "Dad would _kill_ me. Literally. Kill me. And then ground me till I'm an old woman." Trixie looked at her feet. "So you're saying I should just give up? You're probably right. It was never meant to be."

Thunderpetal gave Trixie a push on the shoulder that almost sent her flying off the rain barrel.

"Silly _No-mu_. Think of water flowing round the rock. Always a way." Thunderpetal looked into Trixie's eyes. " _Li-cha_ 's father is not _your_ ancestor. You can defy him all you want. Show him what a wonderful young woman you are." 

 

"Trix!" Nix ran up, in the company of the most unsavoury gang of shady characters Trixie had ever seen. Most of them were in his class.

"What's up?"

"Interalia! She's in labour! There's been an attack! Get off your butt and follow me!"

Trixie looked at Thunderpetal. "Trouble. Got to run."

Thunderpetal got up. "Then I run with you." 

* * *

"That was five minutes. Getting there."

"Dammit! Where is that husband of mine? He's going to get a right earful when he does get in."

"Heh. You're giving birth. You get to hurl abuse at everybody. You're not getting any sharp things, though."

"That's what _you_ think! I've still got..."

Raven smiled sweetly at Interalia and held up her throwing knife.

"You'll get it back later."

Interalia glared at Raven. "You _bitch_! Taking advantage of a pregnant woman!"

Raven laughed, and lightly tossed the knife aside. "That's no way to talk to the only friendly face in the room."

"You're right," said Interalia. She held out her arms. "I'm sorry."

Raven did a kind of inside eye-roll, and gave Interalia a hug.

"It's alright."

She heard Interalia giggle, and felt something sharp against her back. With a speed she'd never before managed to achieve, Raven slapped away Interalia's arm and sent the knife she'd apparently taken from her belt clattering on the floor. She had Interalia by the throat, and looked into her eyes from an inch away.

"Your tiny little brain is turned to mush because you're giving birth, you're in pain and hormones are sloshing all over the place. So I'll let this slide this time." Raven's hand tightened slightly on Interalia's throat. "But if you ever, _ever_ , try a stunt like that again, I'll rip you to pieces. Got that?"

Interalia choked. Raven released her hand so she could breathe.

"Sorry Raven. Wasn't thinking."

Raven sat up. "Also, if you start to push, and little legs come out, I'm out of here. Just saying."

Interalia laughed quietly. "Sister Lily said the head is down and I'm built like a wardrobe. Nice girl, is Lily. I'm really sorry, Raven. I forgot I'm not the only one here who's hurting."

"Oh, push it out already." 

* * *

Nix ran up to the door and rang the bell. Nothing happened. He banged on the door while the parcel of rogues behind him looked on in amusement.

"Someone's in the dog house," one said.

"Forgot their anniversary. That's always bad."

"Hang on, anniversary? It's only been nine months hasn't it?"

"Oh shut up," said Nix.

"What's the problem? Forgotten how to pick a lock?"

Nix looked over his shoulder. " _I_ made this lock. The only one who could pick it is inside."

"Hang on..." one of the rogues looked at Nix. "You live here, don't you?"

"Yeah?"

"Surely, you have a key?"

"Gosh," said another rogue. "Never thought of that!"

"Disabled when the defences are up," said Nix. He rang the bell again. One of the ornamental owls on the wall turned its head. Nix waved.

"Turn the valve next to the door!"

The owl shook its head.

"Stop messing about Raven! Open the sodding door!"

There was the hiss of steam, then the door opened. Raven's head poked out.

"What's the magic word?"

"Or I'll kick your butt."

"Those are _five_ words," said Raven, standing back so the rogues of varying sizes could enter.

"Cor. Some good swag here."

"Try it," said Trixie. "Go on. See what happens."

" _Nix_!"

"Oo mate! It's the missus calling."

"Better go running!" 

 

Interalia squeezed Nix' hand into a pulp, uttering a string of Gnomish words no dictionary would ever list. Raven looked on. The contraction finished. Interalia lay back, eyes closed.

"That's forty seconds, and another kind of animal you've got carnal knowledge of. Is there no end to your talents?"

"Shutup," said Interalia, without opening her eyes.

"Shutup," said Nix. "By the way, aren't my classmates emptying out the place? If they annoy Trix too much, it'll be a bloodbath."

"Taken care of," said Raven with a smug smile.

"What, empty already?"

"Divide and conquer. I took one of them aside and told him that I'd share the loot with him if he'd help me shift it. Then I told the same to the other one. They're now watching each other like hawks."

"They _fell_ for that?"

"I look friendly and trustworthy and cute and innocent."

"Not to mention easy to fool. _Augh_!" Interalia screwed her eyes shut. The contraction lasted about as long as the last one.

"Nix, check for dilation."

"Eh?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "How open is she?"

Nix looked. "Um..."

"For Humans, it should be about four inches. Don't know what that translates to for Gnomes."

"That looks like it is _never_ going to come right again."

Interalia growled. "What exactly are _you_ worried about?"

"Sod all this," said Raven. "Short stuff? Next contraction, you push. Let's get this over with before dinner." 

* * *

Mathias shaw walked up to the door. He'd been told the correct address, but he could guess that the house would be the one with a very large Pandaren sitting in front of it in a meditative pose. The large bear-like creature watched him with a friendly, serene expression on his face.

"Good afternoon," said Mathias Shaw.

"Greetings, friend," said Thunderpetal.

"If I may ask, what are you doing here?"

Thunderpetal nodded his head. "Because I am too large to fit through the door, I am become the door."

"Right," said Shaw. "May we enter?"

"Do those inside wish you to enter?"

"I hope so. I am the man who will help them get rid of the bodies." 

 

Shaw walked into the living room in some kind of crouch. Stupid Dwarfs. Normally, they preferred cavernous halls, as some kind of compensation perhaps. A few under-graduates were sitting on the floor cheating each other at dice.

"What in Azeroth are you doing here, except skiving off class?"

There were screams coming from one of the bedrooms.

"Learning Gnomish, Guv'nor."

Shaw's eyes fell on a plate-wearing Gnomish girl. She was looking at him with large blue eyes. The image of idyllic innocence was spoiled a bit by her hands resting on the pommel of a broadsword that was resting on the floor in front of her.

"And who may you be?" said Trixie.

"Shaw. Mathias Shaw. I'm here to help you with your infestation of Humans. I hope to have all Humans out of here in about half an hour."

Trixie grinned. "Leave Raven. We've got used to her. We feed her, so she probably counts as a pet." 

 

" _Push_! Push damn you!"

Interalia's face was red. Her eyes were screwed shut. Nix was holding her hand and stroking it, muttering words of encouragement, telling her to breathe. Raven was at the other end, feeling she had rather got the wrong end of the stick. She'd only seen this done a few times in hospital, and apart from catching the child before it hit the wall, she really hadn't a clue.

"Look, shrimp, I can see the kid's _head_ poking out and then it goes back in again. I don't want to see my breakfast again! Bloody push _harder_!"

Interalia lay back in the pillows, catching her breath. Then, she took a few short breaths and tried again.

"Yes! Come _on_! Almost!"

Interalia gave an ear-splitting yell, that seemed to last for minutes.

"Yes! Keep up! Keep going! Oh gods..."

Raven slowly breathed in. In her large, five-fingered Human hands lay a tiny. _tiny_ person. With one hand, she wiped the blood and gore off the tiny face. The head was on her fingers. The legs were in the air, bare buttocks were half way up her wrist. Then, it gave a little cough, took its first breath and roared its opinion of this treatment. There were cheers coming from the living room and Trixie came running in.

Raven looked up at Nix and Interalia.

"It's a girl," she said. 

* * *

Raven sat with her back to the living room wall, cross-legged. She'd tied off the umbilical cord with two handy shoelaces, cut it with her black knife, handed the girl to Interalia and left the room. She was supposed to keep an eye on the goings-on, but really she was just staring ahead of her. Someone sat down next to her. She looked up to see Mathias Shaw.

"I've gained all the information I can from the scene. We're cleaning up now. Should be out of here in a few minutes."

"Good," said Raven.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine," said Raven. What else was there to say?

"We're nearly done cleaning up here. As a special service, we've also cleared the bedroom." Mathias Shaw looked at the door. "Removing bloodstains from fabrics is a bit of a speciality of the Fourth Finger."

Raven only nodded. Of course.

"You really are a young lady of remarkable talents. I am deeply impressed with you. To think of you running with those Old Barracks thugs... it really is a crime."

"Thanks," said Raven. She gave Shaw a long look.

"Do you want to run with _my_ gang instead? I'm afraid you would not be allowed to rob Stormwind's citizenry, but the pay is good, and working for the King does have a certain glamour."

A little smile was on Raven's lips. "Mr. Shaw, a girl could be forgiven for thinking you fancy her."

Shaw leaned his head back against the wall, laughing quietly to himself. "Well, Miss Raven, that is because in fact, I do. There is something about young, intelligent, dark-haired women that I find quite irresistible. Which is why, sadly, I am not allowed simply to give you a job. My weaknesses as well as my strengths are well known. But if I whisper a few words to my recruitment officers, one of those rather melodramatic little invitations may well find its way to you."

Raven slowly nodded.

"Oh. One thing, though. If ever you felt moved to betray _us_ , you would be dead before you knew what hit you. We must insist on complete loyalty."

"About that," said Raven. "Baltar got away."

"Yes," said Shaw. "That is embarrassing. I would have expected him to be caught by now, but he has proven to be more resourceful than I expected him to be. I may have to devote more resources to this matter."

Raven looked at his face. He was not very old, thirties perhaps, but he had wrinkles round his eyes. His small beard was meticulously trimmed. His eyes looked like they had seen enough to remove any illusion about how bad a place the world could be, and still there was hope in them. He smiled at her.

"And I know just the people to ask." 

* * *

The door opened, and Griggin and Lenna came in with Lisa Springwater, the Gnomish priestess. Raven got up and followed them into the bedroom to answer any questions. Interalia was lying back on clean sheets, with a little bundle of linen clutched to her.

"Oh look who came in," she said. "You're too late Sister. Look what I got! It's a little person!"

"Aww," said the Priestess. "Not too late to look you over. Let us have a look at you... oh dear. Such nice clean sheets."

"Huh?" Interalia gave Sister Springwater a look. Then, her eyes grew large and she put her hand on her stomach.

"Towels!" said Sister Springwater.

"Oh _gods_ ," said Interalia. "There's not another one in there, is there?"

Sister Springwater grinned broadly. "Yay afterbirth! And just in time. Aren't you happy to see me now?" 

 

Interalia was lying back on the bed once more, muttering dire curses at the address of the Universe at large. Lisa Springwater had just declared the procedure over and done with, and was casting a few healing spells. The young girl had the right number of fingers and toes (eight of each), and was now attached to Interalia's breast, having been given a clean bill of health.

"Oi Raven," said Interalia. "Feeling broody yet?"

Raven thought back on the last hour or so.

" _Hell_ no."

"Oh by the way. Want to know what her name is?"

"Go on."

"Nix and I have decided to call her Aubrey."

Raven gave a little laugh. " _Aubrey_?"

"Yep. Good name, isn't it?"

Raven reached out and put her finger up to Aubrey's palm. Aubrey gripped it tight, without allowing herself to be distracted from the serious business of nutrition.

"I don't need that name anymore," said Raven. "Good luck kid... Aubrey." 


	10. Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuyle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things don’t go the way you want, it’s time to call in reinforcements. The Old Firm. Trusty helpers, who have seen you through many a tight spot in your life. If you can’t get them, then you can always call on Baron Goldenberg and Schmuÿle.

In his mansion in Everlook in the frosty lands of Winterspring, Baron Samuel Goldenberg walked to the speaking tube and blew into it. The voice of his valet answered.

"Yes Sir?"

"Come here for a moment please, Schmuÿle, if I am not inconveniencing you."

"Yes, Sir."

Baron Goldenberg turned to the small window. Outside, one of Winterspring's many snowstorms was whirling by. He raised a green hand to his pointed chin and stroked it thoughtfully. The door opened, and Schmuÿle stepped in.

"Sir?"

"Ah." Baron Goldenberg raised his hand, showing Schmuÿle a letter in an incomprehensible cypher. "Mr. Mathias Shaw honours us with his attention, Schmuÿle. I have just decyphered his message."

"I hope he is well, Sir," said Schmuÿle.

"The message does not say, but I must assume he enjoys a good enough health to remember two of his Goblin..." Baron Goldenberg waved a hand.

"Acquaintances, Sir? Associates, perhaps?"

"I think associates will do. I believe Mr. Shaw has somewhat misinterpreted my words, Schmuÿle."

"He has, Sir?"

"When I mentioned that I was off his payroll, he may have taken that to mean simply that he no longer needed to pay me for my troubles."

"I can see how such a misunderstanding might have arisen, Sir, it being Human to err."

"Indeed. But be that as it may, he does have the knack of piqueing my interest."

"He has a task for you, Sir?"

"He has, he has. There is a group of people who are vexing him by eluding capture."

"Ah. And he believes that we will succeed where others have failed, Sir?"

"Naturally, Schmuÿle. Have we ever given him reason to believe otherwise?"

"Apart from the Ashbringer incident, Sir, I do not believe we have."

Baron Goldenberg looked up from the letter. "Oh please Schmuÿle, stop bringing that up. Those were circumstances beyond our reasonable control. And the sword was eventually restored to its rightful owner."

"Indeed it was, Sir. At no profit to us, but do we not all profit from the demise of the Lich King?"

"Stop rubbing it in please, Schmuÿle." Baron Samuel Goldenberg looked at the letter again. "Confusticate and bebother that Shaw. He does promise some good entertainment, and retirement, I'm afraid, does not agree with me."

"Sir, if I may ask, what is the task at hand?"

"Roll up a gang of common thieves, and bring their leader to justice. And here is the bait, Schmuÿle. 'By whatever means applicable.' _By whatever means applicable_. Free rein in Alliance territory. I think Mr. Mathias Shaw knows me too well sometimes."

"Whatever means applicable, Sir?" Schmuÿle's yellow, slitted eyes shone. A big smile revealed pointed teeth. "Would those means include immoderate amounts of violence, Sir?"

"Yes, Schmuÿle. I think they would. Only against the deserving, of course, as we have found to our cost." Baron Goldenberg crumpled up the letter and threw it into the fireplace. "Fire up the Old Lightning. We are heading for Stormwind!" 

* * *

Raven sat by one of the cooking fires in the Pandaren camp. Just to have something to do with her hands, she was chopping up vegetables for Fuzzball, who was preparing dinner for all the Pandaren and Raven herself. It also meant that she had a sharp blade in her hand already just in case anyone was thinking of trying something. She was thinking. Some things did not add up. Baltar had grabbed her to make an example of her, and show the rest of his merry men what happened to you if you betrayed the holy code of silence. That much, she could understand. But how had he spotted her on her return to Stormwind? She had thrown away the clothes she had worn when she... Raven closed her eyes a moment, swept another heap of chopped onion into the bowl. When what had happened, had happened. Still, that could just have been dumb luck.

Lenna had come in, guns blazing, and she had escaped. That must not have been good for Baltar's reputation. Several had died, because Lenna packed one hell of a punch. Most of them had got away. It would have been perfectly acceptable for Baltar to have given up at that point. Master fire-mages had always been out of season, because they were simply too powerful to mess with. Back in her Cordelia days, part of her job had been to assess the strength of the victim, and if it was too risky, get up and allow herself to be rescued, cleaned up, and sent on her way. Then come back, get dirty again, rinse, repeat.

Small though they were, the Steambenders were a force to be reckoned with. A powerful warlock, a fire-mage, a rogue, and a permanent sugar-rush of a warrior girl. Raven smiled. Before long, the second rogue would be back in action. All they needed was a healer, and they could move mountains. Perhaps Aubrey could go into the priesthood.

So why risk it? Why attack their home? Even if they had watched the house, they should have known that she and Griggin were there. There had been four sword-fighters and one little creep, who sadly had gotten away. Did they think that was enough? Why not send in more? Why not the whole gang, and most importantly, why bother in the first place? She wasn't _that_ important, was she? And she couldn't hide forever. All they had to do was wait. Raven sighed. So many questions. Not enough answers.

She handed Thunderpetal the bowl of chopped onion. Thunderpetal offered her a small plate of dumplings. She picked one up with her chopsticks, dipped it in the sauce, and tasted. It was gorgeous.

"If I don't get out of here soon, I'll have to roll out."

Thunderpetal laughed. "Tomorrow, I teach you how to roll." 

* * *

"Good grief, Schmuÿle, are we lost already?"

"That is possible, Sir. I always forget whether it was right at the second or third star, before flying on till the morning."

"We have no time to fly on till the morning, Schmuÿle. Step on it."

"Stepping on it, Sir."

Schmuÿle pushed the throttle forward, and after-burners kicked in, sending the helicopter hurtling through the sky. After an hour, the lights of Stormwind came into view. Schmuÿle throttled back, because the look-outs were a bit wary of ignivomous things hurtling towards the city, and would welcome them with a hail of sharp arrows. Schmuÿle made the Old Lightning dip down sharply, until it flew just above the waves. He made for their usual landing spot, and stopped in surprise. The helicopter hovered.

"Sir?"

Baron Goldenberg looked up from the book he had been reading.

"What is it, Schmuÿle?"

"Our landing space, Sir. It is... occupied."

Baron Goldenberg frowned, and produced a pair of binoculars. Schmuÿle turned the Old Lightning so that the Baron could see.

"A bunch of... bears have set up a camp in our usual landing spot. There is also a hot air balloon. That is rather inconsiderate of them. At this rate, Stormwind will need air traffic control."

"Indeed, Sir. I take it you wish to remain undetected? Shall I find an alternative?"

"Please do, Schmuÿle. I wish to have a little chat with Mr. Shaw first." 

* * *

Nix woke up. Someone was complaining about the food, or the lack thereof. He poked Interalia.

"She's hungry again."

"Bog off. You feed her."

"Don't have the equipment."

Interalia groaned. "Oh alright then. Bring me... the child."

Nix got up, and picked Aubrey up out of the basket.

"Ugh."

Interalia gave him a Look. "Better take care of that first, unless you want it in bed."

Nix said nothing.

"Want to claim you don't have the equipment for that either?"

Nix grumbled a bit, put Aubrey on the changing mat and faced the horror. The single most useful thing they'd shown him in the pre-natal classes was the way in which you held Baby's feet in one hand, and cleaned with the other.

"She's just produced her own weight in poo! I'm sure other babies are portalling theirs here."

Aubrey's eyes were the most amazing shade of blue. Which was not strictly relevant at this point, because she had them both shut tight. Her mouth was wide open, though. Aubrey awake, happy and gurgling with laughter was the most wonderful sight in the world. Aubrey red-faced and screaming was what you put up with to get it. Nix dumped the dirty nappie in the bucket, fitted a new one, and handed Aubrey to Interalia. The noise stopped, to be replaced by satisfied, but most importantly, _quiet_ sucky noises. Nix looked at Interalia's breast, thoughtfully. Interalia followed his gaze.

"No."

" _What_?"

"Not until she's on solids. Then Daddy can play with them again."

"That's not what I was thinking of."

"I bet you weren't."

Nix reached for his notepad and made a few quick sketches. Funnel shape, bottle, vacuum pump. Interalia looked over.

"What are you scribbling?"

Nix showed her. "A way of extracting your milk into a bottle. That way, we can both feed Aubrey."

"You want to stick _that_ on my tit?"

"Yeah." Nix grinned. "I'll start the vacuum pump on low."

"I'd say not in a million years, if it wasn't so useful."

"I'll get the mats tomorrow. See if it works."

"Oh. One thing. Better label the bottles very clearly."

"You milk," said Nix.

Interalia hit him. 

* * *

Raven twisted round with the speed of a snake, and her dagger stopped half an inch short of the throat of the person who had entered the tent where she slept and touched her. Her wrist was held in an iron grip. She looked into the frightening green face of a Goblin.

"Good evening, Miss Raven. May I compliment you on your reflexes? If my assistant had not restrained you, you would certainly have done me a grave injury, and only found out your mistake afterwards."

"Who are you, what do you want, and let _go_ of me!"

"Excellent questions, Miss Raven. Excellent. My name is Baron Samuel Goldenberg, and the gentleman holding your wrist is Schmuÿle. What I want is to have a quiet conversation with you on the subject of your former gang, and Schmuÿle, I believe you can release Miss Raven now. May I ask you in return to put away that dagger? I assure you, while we are here, you will not need it."

Raven looked at the Goblins. Baron Goldenberg was dressed in a dark green business suit. It looked expensive. His... assistant wore a black suit and a bowler hat.

"Who sent you? Shaw?"

"You are correct. Mr. Shaw has asked us to ensure that Mr. Baltar and his friends no longer trouble Stormwind. Since you are his prime target, naturally, our first course of action is to find out what you can tell us."

"And I can trust you... why?"

Baron Goldenberg's smile was completely sincere, though what it was that amused him might be open to speculation.

"Miss Raven, we can divide the world into three kinds of people. First, those who wish you well, like your Gnomish and Pandaren friends. I would be amiss if I did not include Mathias Shaw in this group as well. Second, those who wish you harm, like your former gang members, and perhaps a few dozen of your victims, though they may not recognise you in your current guise. And finally, those who do not care one way or the other. I am afraid we must place ourselves in that group. The only proof I can offer is the fact that we are quite good at... how shall I put it?"

"Killing people, Sir?" supplied Schmuÿle.

"Crude but accurate. Were we to wish you harm, then we would not be having this conversation. A tired old cliché, but I'm afraid that is all I can offer."

"Hm."

"Indeed. Well then, Miss Raven. Please tell us what you can about this gang of yours."

"What will you do to them?"

"Take them out of this great chess game of Stormwind, and make sure that they do not interfere in its workings again."

"Kill them," added Schmuÿle, by way of explanation.

Raven put away her dagger. The gang. They had accepted her when she first came to Stormwind from Ironforge. One big happy family. Nasty, abusive, but a family of sorts. They had allowed her to stay mostly because of her looks. 'Presentable' was a rarity among the rats of the Old Barracks. The first couple of weeks had been pure hell, as one after the other had tried, in one way or another, to get her clothes off. With time, even the slow ones had caught on that Bad Things happened to those who tried to force their company on her. Nobody really trusted each other in the gang. All that kept the group together was the fear of being alone in a hostile place. A justified fear that Raven had shared with them. In the recesses of the Old Barracks, not close enough to the fire to be warm, not far enough away to freeze, she had been able to sleep. She had been grateful for that, at least. Without the gang, she might not have made it. And now, for reasons she still did not fully understand, they were trying to kill her.

Raven looked into the strange, alien eyes of Baron Samuel Goldenberg, and prepared to betray them. 

* * *

In the tent that he shared with Huang, Thunderpetal sat on his sleeping mat, and thought of home. Born in a quiet part of the Valley of the Four Winds, his life had been mostly filled with farming, cooking and brewing. They had traded fish with the Jinyu fish-people, and had mostly been left alone by the thieving Hozen. It was a peaceful time. The oppression of the Mo-gu was a distant ancestral memory to his father, and nothing but tales for him. He had never truly known his mother. She had died in an accident when he was just a small cub, an event not so much for tears as for wondering when Mummy would be back, and then acceptance. His father had never remarried. As much as a way to honour his ancestors as to learn to defend himself, Father had taught him how to fight with a staff. He had sparred with his friend Huang, mostly paying attention to form rather than stopping power.

And then, suddenly, there had been an attack on the farm. Usually, the rabbit-like, semi-intelligent Virmen knew to stay away from the farms. They knew that farmers would deal mercilessly with any rodent trying to make off with their vegetables. Kind and wise farmers would occasionally give away a few barrels of turnips or carrots, because well-fed Virmen were less likely to come stealing. Also, Virmen were plant-eaters. The thought of them becoming blood-thirsty was as ridiculous as carnivorous Mushan. And yet, that was exactly what had happened. They had come in numbers, and torn into the cabbage patch with a hatred that could not be explained by simple hunger. When Father had come with a flaming torch to scare the Virmen off, they had not run away. They had attacked. Sharp rodent teeth and claws.

Father had kicked and punched away the closest of the maddened creatures, then grabbed the first weapon to hand. It turned out to be a rice flail. What followed was a scene of carnage Thunderpetal had never seen before, and never hoped to again. The most remarkable thing about it, was how _calm_ Father had looked, even while he cracked open skulls, broke limbs and stabbed. Never did he seem angry. It had taken Thunderpetal a few moments to overcome his inaction. Then, he had taken his staff and attacked, and for the first time, taken the life of people, not simply food animals. They had deserved it. Without their crops, they would starve. They were trying to starve them, _kill_ them. Thunderpetal had struck out without mercy. He had not minded causing the Virmen pain. It had felt good. It had felt right that they should suffer. He had struck to mortally wound them, and withheld the final stroke of mercy. Their cries of pain had been music to his ears. To this day, the memory filled him with shame.

After the fight, he had asked Father about the ghost-like, smoky shadow that emerged from his slain foes. Was it the Virmen soul? Father had looked at him a long time. Clearly, he was hesitating between telling him not to be so silly, and... _telling_ him. 

"These shades are the manifestations of hatred. We call them the _Sha_. I watched you fight, my son. You are in grave peril."

"What, from _these_ creatures? They cannot hurt me."

"You are wrong. Twice wrong. You face peril not from the Virmen, but from the _Sha_. The _Sha_ make you reckless and cruel. Not the Virmen. And the Virmen _can_ hurt you. Look at your arm."

It was only then that Thunderpetal had noticed that one of the Virmen had taken a large chunk out of his forearm. Blood was running down his arm, and dripping onto the ground. Father had grabbed his shoulder and shown Thunderpetal where to press to hold the artery closed.

"Let us find you some bandages."

Soon after that, Father had met with Huang's mother. Their home had also been attacked. Huang's father had fallen, crushed under the weight of attacking Virmen. Huang had shown that he had a natural talent by healing his mother of a bite wound. Father had suggested that she and Huang move in with them, because their farm was easier to defend in the event of further attacks. It would have been nice to say that they eventually found comfort in each other's arms, but things never went further than a comfortable friendship.

Thunderpetal was not as lucky. The attack on his home had left him angry. He still trained with Huang, but as often as not, Huang would end up hurt. Huang took it stoically. He had learnt to make medicinal brews and extracts, some of which one doesn't drink, but soaks into a bandage. He would always emerge the next morning looking the same as ever he did. One evening, Thunderpetal and Huang were training. Huang, by necessity, was now quite good at fending off attacks. Thunderpetal, to compensate, hit harder. They stepped round the barn, Thunderpetal on the offensive, Huang parrying all his blows. Faster and faster went the fight, until finally, Huang tripped, fell on his back.

"Yield," said Huang.

Thunderpetal swung his staff round, teeth bare, eyes glaring. Huang held his staff above his head. It connected with a bone-jarring snap.

" _Yield_!"

Thunderpetal's staff swung round again and hit Huang's staff so hard that it cracked.

" _Léi-shēng Huā-bàn_!"

Thunderpetal stood stock still. In the door stood Father, with an expression of anger on his face that Thunderpetal had never before seen. He stepped forward, snatched Thunderpetal's staff from his unresisting hands, and threw it on the floor. Then, he kneeled by Huang.

"Are you hurt, Huang?"

Huang closed his eyes a moment. "No Sir."

Father held out his hand to Huang, and pulled him to his feet. Then, he turned round to Thunderpetal.

"What, my son, were you doing?"

Thunderpetal swallowed. "Training, Father."

"That did not look like training." Father moved his face closer. "What were you _thinking_? You could have _hurt_ Huang." The tone in his voice made it clear as spring water to Thunderpetal that what father had meant was _killed_.

Thunderpetal's heart went cold. Huang was his friend. Surely, he would never... He looked round at Huang, who simply stood there, with his face as calm and still as a pond on a windless day. But Thunderpetal could see now that below the surface, there was fear. Fear of... he bowed his head. Fear of _him_.

Father put a hand under his chin and made him look up. "My son, this is not like you. You and Huang have been friends since you were cubs. What has come over you?"

"I do not know."

Father sniffed. "Then we must find out. I do not wish to exile my son if I can prevent it."

Thunderpetal nodded. Then, he bent down, picked up his staff and stood in front of Huang, with the staff on his upturned palms, head bowed down.

"Huang, I have broken your staff. I am ashamed and I am sorry. Please accept mine as a replacement. I will not need it anymore."

Huang looked into Thunderpetal's eyes, and a moment arrived as a leaf that hangs from the tree in Autumn. He took the staff from Thunderpetal's hands.

"Thank you, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn."

The leaf fell from the tree, and turned that what could have been into what must be true.

In their tent on a small island near Stormwind, Huang gave a small snort, turned over. Thunderpetal smiled.

"Good night, Huang," he said. 

* * *

In the course of its history, not many Goblins had visited Steambender Manor 3.0. Gnomes and Dwarves could enter easily. Humans, Draenei and Night-elves had to come through the door on their hands and knees, which was not very dignified, so Griggin tended to meet them in one of the inns to discuss business. For Pandaren, of course, one needed to raise the front of the building, which was normally only done to move larger pieces of equipment from the first basement outside. Goblins had no problem using the doors. There weren't many Goblins in Stormwind, anyway. Despite the fact that they were supremely honest, and honoured their business deals to the very letter, they were also extremely intelligent and could lure the unwary customer into deals they never thought anyone could agree to. Also, fairly recently, a huge number of them had joined the Horde. As a result, Goblins were almost universally despised and mistrusted.

One of them was now sitting in Griggin's chair, looking as if he owned the place. Another was standing behind the chair. Griggin put a cup of strong black coffee on the table, pulled up another chair, and prepared himself for a battle of wits.

"What can I do for you, Baron Goldenberg?"

"Mathias Shaw sends us, Mr. Steambender. We have been asked to remove some undesirable elements from the Stormwind environment, in such a way that they do not return to trouble its law-abiding citizens."

"I thought Mr. Dashel Stonefist had already taken care of that," said Griggin. "He seemed quite eager to apply himself. And yet."

Baron Goldenberg steepled his fingers and grinned. "Mr. Dashel Stonefist behaved in a properly heroic and, dare I say, Dwarf-like fashion. I have no doubt that his intentions were..." he waved a hand.

"Extremely violent, Sir?" said Schmuÿle.

"Inspired by the spirit of service to one's fellow being," said Baron Goldenberg. "I am sure that he provided himself, his brethren, and our new Pandaren friends, with a wonderful evening of entertainment. He may also have provided the Old Barracks gang with an invigorating run around the area, but I very much doubt they achieved anything permanent. If the Old Barracks were not swarming with the uncouth and the unsavoury at this very moment, I would be surprised."

"That being the case, Sir," said Griggin, "Do you anticipate doing any better?"

"We are not blunt instruments, Mr. Steambender. We do not simply rush in and hit anything that moves. We _inform_ ourselves. Then, when we have sufficient information, we deduce from that information the optimal location to strike. And only then..."

"I kill them," said Schmuÿle.

Griggin looked up at Schmuÿle, standing next to his employer in his impeccably ironed suit and tie. His hands were behind his back, but Griggin did not doubt that they would be heavily calloused, from work rather more sinister than ironing Baron Samuel Goldenberg's shirts.

"How may I help you?"

Baron Goldenberg's eyes glinted at Griggin. "From Miss Raven's words, I understand that the attackers probably knew how many people would be in the house. This would be Miss Raven, a knife fighter of some skill, your heavily pregnant daughter-in-law, who actually managed to kill one of the attackers, and yourself. Yet, Mr. Shaw's associates recovered only two bodies from the scene. The lookout fled the scene. Were those all the attackers? It seems like a rather small group to me."

"There were two more," said Griggin. "They came down into my basement, where I was at work." Griggin's expression was carefully neutral. "What remained of them was of no forensic interest. I swept it up and disposed of it."

"Most efficient," said Baron Goldenberg. "What did they look like?"

"Sword fighters, wearing chainmail helm, chestpiece, leather gloves, reinforced leather leg armour. I think they were what passes for elite warriors in the Old Barracks."

"Possible," said Baron Goldenberg. "What exactly were you working on at the time?"

"I have a new line of high-powered water boilers coming out a few months from now," said Griggin. "They are designed to provide steam and hot water for an entire barracks or a small castle. The energies involved are quite phenomenal. It could boil a knight in his armour."

Baron Goldenberg picked up his coffee cup, smelled the coffee and looked at Griggin over the rim.

"Mr. Steambender. I wish you to know that when working a case, I stick _strictly_ to its parameters. My target is only Mr. Baltar and the rats from the Old Barracks. Everyone is usually guilty of _something_. At this moment, I have enough information to have Miss Raven arrested for a number of offences, but it is not in anyone's interest to do so. I also know that you, Sir, are a practicioner of magics that would deeply worry the citizens of Stormwind. Likewise, I need your help to do my job. Anything you say to me, will only be used if it turns out that you are conspiring with my primary mark."

Griggin allowed himself a little smile. "In that case, Baron Goldenberg, whatever you can infer, it is probably worse." 

* * *

Raven swirled the pale ale in the one mug she'd allowed herself in the Golden Keg, the inn in the Dwarven District. She wanted to keep her reflexes up, and her wits about her. Despite the formidable defences of Steambender Manor, she felt safer in the Pandaren camp. Easier to move, easier to see. She was sitting at the table under the stairs, back to the wall, feet stretched out in front of her, cloak pulled round her, hood over her face. The shadow fell over her eyes, and she watched every person coming into the common room. Those creepy Goblins had slunk off into the gloom for more research and information gathering. Little murdering bastards if she was any judge, but they were on _her_ side. As far as that went, of course. If tomorrow, someone passed them some gold, they'd be at her throat instead. Nothing personal. Just business. Raven quickly looked round the room, then got up and put the empty mug on the bar.

"Same again, love?" said the barman.

"No thanks Colin," said Raven. "Time to go home."

Colin smiled at her. "Well good night then."

Raven smiled back. She turned round and walked out of the door. Home. Where was home, anyway? At the moment, it was a space in a tent that she shared with a friendly Pandaren girl. They didn't talk much, and to be honest, she didn't give the impression that much was going on in that cute fluffy little head of hers. Impressions could be deceiving of course, especially if the person in question was a whole different species. Perhaps the wisdom of the ages was hidden behind Violet's ever optimistic smile, but somehow, she doubted it. Still, she was nice. Back in the day, Raven would have taken her for everything she owned, but these days, she was depending on the kindness of strangers. It annoyed her. Raven was used to depending only on her own wits, skills, and truth be told, a dedication to separating suckers from their money. But you do not shit where you eat, and you do not bite the hand that feeds you.

Down at the lake bed, some enterprising souls had strung a cable across the water and attached it to a boat, so that you could get across to Furry Island without getting your feet wet. Raven pulled herself across. She leapt ashore and headed for the tea kettle. Pandaren made the best tea in the world. There was always a large pot of boiling water, several kinds of tea leaves and a jar where you were expected to leave a few coppers. She found herself actually _doing_ that. Every time. Ye gods, what was happening to her? She tried to tell herself that the tea tasted better that way, but... 

 

Raven's eyes narrowed. By the teapot, silhouetted in the firelight, was a little man. She'd recognise him anywhere. He was probably after the tea money. Which was simply not on. Raven went down in a crouch and sprinted to the fire.

"Time to dance, you little bastard. The hemp fandango if I've got anything to do with it."

Raven was _good_ at stealth. If she wanted, she could disappear in the shadows and never be seen again. She could sneak up on people, pick their pockets, give them _change_ and be gone before anyone noticed. She had trained with Fenthwick in Ironforge, who was one of the best at stealth. But it needed a clear, calm mind to pull it off. You needed to take all your emotions away, and instead be sensitive to every little thing that your senses told you. Being full of desire to pounce on your victim and stab him till your arms gave way was not the correct mindset. The lookout, who was up to no good, and very good at spotting furious women running at him snarling, saw Raven. He gave a squeal and shot off in the direction of town. The little man had a good turn of speed. Raven only managed to gain on him slowly, and not before he got in the boat. He started pulling himself across. Raven got to the bank, grabbed the rope and heaved. The boat stopped in the middle and started to move back.

"Got you," said Raven. She gave a mighty pull and the boat started to move back. With a determined look on her face, Raven threw her weight behind it, pulling for all she was worth, until something gave way, and she fell back, landing on her butt in a most undignified way. In the distance, the boat once more headed for Stormwind.

Raven considered a moment. Was she angry enough?

Hell yeah.

She kicked off her shoes and with a good run-up, Raven dived into the water. She wasn't a bad swimmer, but she couldn't outswim a boat. As she climbed out of the water, she could just see the lookout running through the archway into Stormwind. She uttered a quick prayer to the God of Sharp Things to stay the hell away from her and sprinted after him on bare feet. As she ran over the cobblestones of the Dwarven District, she could just see him shoot into the tunnel to the Deeprun Tram. The train was on the far platform, and she could just see the man get on it as she entered the great underground station. Forcing more air into her lungs, she bit down the pain in her legs and ran across the hall, leapt over the row of chairs and reached the platform just as the train disappeared into the tunnel, the lookout laughing and waving at her. She fell to one knee, and tried to breathe, shoulders heaving, water dripping from her clothes. Damn, damn, _damn_.

"Missed the train then, love?" An older man sitting on one of the seats looked up from his newspaper. "There's another one in ten minutes or so. Really not worth getting that worked up over."

Raven took a final deep breath and got to her feet. She gave the man a dark look.

"I chased it off," she said, and walked back to the Pandaren Island.

Where are these blasted Goblins when you need them? 


	11. Promenade V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BINAS books should be very well known to the average Dutch student. It’s a reference book for Bology, Physics and Chemistry, or BIologie NAtuurkunde en Scheikunde in Dutch. It contains such useful things as the periodic table of elements, the definitions of various constants such as Planck time and Planck length, and much more information, essential during your tests. It does not, I can say with certainty, contain a table of the amount of phlogiston in various substances, for the very good reason that phlogiston does not actually exist. Back in the time when Alchemy was state of the art, phlogiston was conjectured to be the substance that made things flammable. Wood or coal would obviously have a high phlogiston content, where water would hardly have any at all. As it turned out, Johann Joachim Becher was wrong. Science progresses over the corpses of disproven theories.
> 
> But it tickles me that an Azerothian BINAS book would list it.

Magis Mustrum Sparkbolt, father of Richard Sparkbolt, stepped out of the boat onto the Pandaren Island. He halted and turned North for a moment to admire the fine portal work being done there. Then, he turned to the tents, looking for a Pandaren Mage named Wu Chong Mao. In his bag were copies of all the exam papers set to Gnomish mages. Many students would give their right arms to have a look at them, but some of _them_ would give their right arms to be ambidextrous. Mustrum Sparkbolt walked up to one of the large creatures, and bowed to him, as he'd been told that was the thing to do among the Panda-ren.

" _Ni-hao_ ," he said. "I am looking for one named Wu Chong Mao. Would you know where he is?"

Thunderpetal bowed back. "No, and yes. She walks into Stormwind to find some supplies. She is back in a half-hour or so. May I offer you some refreshment? A mug of light ale, perhaps?"

Mustrum Sparkbolt kicked himself. With these alien Pandaren names, it was so hard to tell the boys' names from the girls'. He bowed his head.

"Her. A thousand pardons. Simple water will suffice, thank you. My name is Mustrum Sparkbolt. Who do I have the honour of addressing?"

"I am called Thunderpetal." Thunderpetal put a large jug of water on a piece of wood, and added a few biscuits. " _Spak-botu_... Are you related to one named _Li-cha_ _Spak-botu_?"

"Richard, yes. He is my son. Do you know him?"

"I meet him in Westbrook, when I travel there with my new friends."

Mustrum gave Thunderpetal a strange look. "There are many soldiers in Westbrook. What a coincidence that you should meet just him. Was he assigned to show you around, perhaps?"

Thunderpetal shook his head, a fond smile on his large, round face. "I travel with his... _Huai_ _El_ , as they say. _T'li-chi_ is most desirous to meet him, and introduce us."

"T'li-chi..." Mustrum blinked. " _Trixie_? Trixie _Steambender_? The warlock girl?"

"She is a warrior," said Thunderpetal. "And a very brave one."

Mustrum Sparkbolt scowled. "She comes out of a nest of warlocks and demon-botherers. She is not the right company for my son."

"I am quite fond of _T'li-chi_ ," said Thunderpetal. "Her body is small, but her heart is large. When she is angry, it burns like a dragon, and yet, when she is happy, her laughter flows like a mighty river. I am lucky to know her."

"I expressly forbade my son to associate with her. And yet, it is still going on between them? Behind my back?"

"One can forbid one's son to steal food. One can forbid one's son to strike those who are weaker. One can forbid one's son to tell lies. This is easy, because deep inside, children do know right from wrong, and they are simply looking for their parents to confirm what they already know." Thunderpetal looked down on Mustrum. "One cannot forbid one's son to love any more than one can forbid a river to flow downstream."

"Hmm," said Mustrum. "I have seen this girl. I am not convinced that 'love' is what would drive someone to desire her company. I might seek for motivation somewhere lower than the heart, if you understand what I mean. She's got that from her mother, I suppose."

Thunderpetal studied Mustrum Sparkbolt's face. Certainly, Trixie was a healthy, attractive, young Gnome woman. The gift of her body would be a great gift to anyone. Did this Gnome think, though, that really was all that Richard saw in her?

"You are a Mage. You know the difference between true magic, and make believe. Why do you try to make yourself believe?"

Mustrum shook his head as though to dislodge an inconvenient train of thought. "I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"You try to make yourself believe that _Li-cha_ simply wishes for _T'li-chi_ 's body, as a play-thing. You know this is not true, because there are many suitable Gnome girls, even in Westbrook. Still, no other girl will do. It must be _T'li-chi_."

"She may have her hooks in him deeper than I thought. Do you know what a Succubus is, Mr. Thunderpetal? It is a demoness that uses people's base instincts against them. Lust, Mr. Thunderpetal. Base indulgence in sexual desire."

" _T'li-chi_ is not a demoness, Mr. Spak-botu. She is a beautiful young woman overflowing with the joy of life." Thunderpetal laughed. "I do not desire Gnome women for that kind of company. And yet, to watch _T'li-chi_ in her joy, makes me feel blessed to be alive." Thunderpetal bent over to Mustrum. " _T'li-chi_ truly loves your son. It is plain to see for all who have eyes."

Mustrum Sparkbolt stared ahead of him. "She comes from a family where dark magic is practiced. Nothing good ever came from dealing with these evil creatures from the Twisting Nethers, Mr. Thunderpetal. I do not wish my son to be tainted with that influence. I do not want him to be hurt. This Steambender girl is not good for him."

"He will be hurt," said Thunderpetal. "Pain is a necessary and inevitable part of our lives. If not for pain, how do we know joy and beauty? Nobody lives without pain."

"I lost my wife in the Gnomeregan disaster," said Mustrum. "I know about pain. I want my son to have a better life than I have."

Mustrum looked into his mug. It was empty, and he put it down. Thunderpetal refilled it.

"I understand that desire," said Thunderpetal. He stared in the distance, back in time. "But it is hard sometimes, to see whether we are being kind, or whether we are hurting." 

* * *

Griggin could never take the Deeprun Tram without remembering. It had been one of his great failures. He should have noticed the signs of a falling Warlock. In hindsight, they had been clear as day. He had been forced to slay him. After his apprentice had started enslaving, torturing and killing people, there was no way back. In fact, that moment had passed long before, and Griggin had missed it. As the cart whizzed past, his eyes were drawn to the very place. There was a hand on his shoulder, and he looked round.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"Where are we going in Ironforge?"

Griggin smiled. Nix knew exactly where they were going. Interalia, who was standing at the very front of the carriage, turned her head round and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes were shining with the joy of being out there again. Little Aubrey was back at Steambender Manor, as was a good supply of You Milk. Lenna had kindly offered to look after her for a few days.

"We're going to some posh place aren't we?"

"Not _very_ ," said Griggin. "Stonefire Tavern is a respectable, but affordable place."

"Did some work there, way back when," said Nix.

"Yeah," said Raven. "Me too."

Nix raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"Get caught?"

"No."

"Good. We'll be using the place as our base of operation."

Raven stretched, looking at the pretty lights whizzing by.

"What about the little green men?"

Griggin laughed to himself. "Baron Goldenberg and Schmuÿle are travelling to Ironforge under their own power. They will be joining us there."

Interalia turned round and sat down. "They still let Goblins in? After the whole thing where they all joined the Horde?"

"Not all of them," said Nix. "And there's a few of them in Stormwind. Renzik for one. He did some lectures."

Griggin nodded. "Still, they do tend to be rather low profile, and loath to attract attention to themselves."

"He's going to be in our room, sitting in a chair when we get there. I just know it." Raven steepled her fingers, tilted her head and smiled. "Ah, Misters Steambender, Ma'am, Miss Raven. So good of you to join us." She sneered. "Melodramatic little git."

"Let's switch rooms at the last moment," said Interalia. "Make him sit in that chair all night."

"The Deeprun Tram is quite fast," said Griggin. "In all likelyhood, we will be there before our Goblin acquaintances. I believe their main reason for flying is that they carry some specialist equipment in their helicopter."

"Cool," said Nix. "That way, _we_ can sit in a chair and be evil at them." 

* * *

"And then you put a towel on your shoulder, and you put her on it, and you pat her back until she burps."

Bieslook put down the empty bottle.

"It's bad manners to burp."

"Not for a baby, Bies. She has to, or she'll get a tummy upset and throw all the milk up again."

Bieslook nodded seriously, carefully spread out a fluffy towel on her shoulder and put little Aubrey on it. She gently patted her back till Aubrey did the deed. Lenna picked up Aubrey and put her back in the basket. Just as she wanted to put on the blanket, she sniffed.

"Oh _excellent_. Both sides of childcare within five minutes. Trixie? Your chance to shine."

Trixie looked up from her book. "I'm doing my homework."

"This'll be invaluable experience for when you get kids of your own," said Lenna.

"Stuff that. I'm never letting another man get within a mile of me."

Bieslook's eyes grew large, "Not even Nix or Griggin?"

Trixie grumbled, not in any mood to explain, and bent back over her homework. How much phlogiston was there in ten grains of coal? She grabbed her BINAS, the reference book for biological and natural sciences, and flipped to the page. Her finger ran down the tables. She looked up to see Lenna watching her, with a very mother-like look on her face.

"What?"

Lenna pointed a finger at her. "Today you get off free, my girl. Today only."

She walked over into Nix and Interalia's room for a fresh nappie, a bowl of water and a cloth. 

* * *

The Deeprun Tram arrived in Ironforge, and they got off. They wandered into the familiar noise of Tinker Town. High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque was no longer there. He was camping at the entrance to Gnomeregan, leading the ongoing efforts to re-take it and clear it of radiation and Troggs. They took a left, and walked through the Military Ward to the Commons, with its banks, armory shops and auction house. Nix pointed up.

"That's our old house."

"Gosh," said Interalia. "On the Commons no less? High rolling!"

"There's always some leftover place somewhere where a Gnome can make a home."

"In the house," said Raven, eyes miles away. "Ye gods, that takes me back."

Interalia grinned up at Raven. "Is that when you were playing kinky bondage games with my husband?"

Raven said nothing for a moment. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and pulled it tighter round her. "More than you can imagine. I really don't like Warlocks. No offence Mr. Steambender."

"None taken," said Griggin. "I'd much rather be remembered for my engineering work than for my Daemonology."

"Wonder how IGNITE is doing," said Nix. "We sort of lost contact when we went to Stormwind."

"I know Anton has left," said Griggin. "Went to Thelsamar to rejoin Beatrice. Chint Waterspray is still here. And so is the Stonefire Tavern." 

 

"Mr. Steambender. What a pleasure to see you again after all these years. I hope you are well?"

"Very well, Mr. Smolt. How are the taps?"

"Still running hot and cold, Mr. Steambender. How may I help you?"

"We need room for six, please, for two to three nights. All Gnome size except for Miss Raven here."

Mr. Smolt considered a moment, then smiled. "If you wish, I can let you have the Crown Room at the price of two doubles, for old time's sake. There hasn't been much call for it lately."

"Opulent luxury, Mr. Smolt. We'll gladly take it."

They all walked up the stairs, carrying what little baggage they had brought. Interalia stepped up to the door and opened it.

"Here's the key," said Griggin. "Oh."

Interalia walked inside. "Thanks, Boilerman. Whoa! Are you sure we can afford this?"

Raven followed Interalia inside. She looked at the thick carpet. "I can't see my feet! What happened to my feet?"

"Taken in tribute to the Gods of Plush," said Nix. 

Interalia pointed at the large double canopied bed. "Dibs!"

"Hey! I'm the biggest girl here," said Raven, more for the fun of protesting than anything else. "I should have the big bed."

The Crown Room actually had space for one Main Couple and three other couples. They found beds, and walked down to get something to eat. The Stonefire Tavern was famous for its roast boar in peanut sauce, so they all had that. Interalia was gloating over her first pint of cider in nine or ten months when the door opened and someone walked in. They stared. So did most of the other customers. 

 

The person who had just walked in, followed by a servant, was a Goblin. He was dressed in a purple cloak lined with yeti fur of the purest white, embroidered in gold, and a purple waistcoat that clashed most wonderfully with his green skin. In his hand was a cane fashioned from an elephant's tusk, blackened, and tipped with a very large gemstone that could only be a diamond. On his head was a purple hat, with a large red feather stuck in the brim. He walked up to the reception and stamped his cane on the ground.

"Sir, your finest room if you please."

Raven was the first on her feet. She quickly walked over, and bowed to Baron Goldenberg. Her face was quiet, demure, and a meek, almost fearful expression was on it.

"My Lord," said Raven, in a soft voice, "The matter has already been seen to. We have reserved the Crown Room for your use."

Baron Goldenberg looked up at Raven. "And when, wench, were you planning on informing me of this?"

Raven seemed to shrink. "Apologies, my Lord. We did not know the hour of your arrival."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Take me to the room. Schmuÿle, see to the luggage."

"Yes my Lord," said Raven, and stepped out, followed by her new peacock of a master.

Griggin, Nix and Interalia walked over to Schmuÿle.

"Good evening, Mr. Schmuÿle," said Nix. "Did you have a good trip then?"

"Tolerable, young Mr. Steambender. Tolerable. Mostly tail-wind, which was fortunate."

"Good good," said Nix. He pointed at the large trunk Schmuÿle was dragging around. "Need a hand with that?"

"That would be most kind," said Schmuÿle.

Nix grabbed the other handle of the trunk and lifted it, not as easily as he'd thought.

"Bloody hell! What's in there?"

"A change of clothes for his Lordship," said Schmuÿle. "Some tools of our trade. A few charges of seaforium to unblock things that need unblocking."

"Who'd leave home without some high explosives?" said Interalia.

"Indeed, Ma'am," said Schmuÿle. 

 

They found Baron Goldenberg in the room. Raven was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, finally. I need to change out of these clothes. I have work to do." He walked over to the trunk and started fiddling with the lock. Nix and Interalia looked on with professional interest.

"This is the latest in lock technology," said Baron Goldenberg. "It will render all locks with keys obsolete. All known methods of lock picking rely on mimicing the key. With _this_ lock, the key is in my head. A sequence of numbers, known only to me, that I have to dial in using this control here."

Nix and Interalia made the appropriate 'Ooo' and 'Aaaah' noises. They looked at each other and grinned. Interalia looked round.

"Hey! Where's the tall one?"

"In her room," said the Baron.

Interalia looked at Baron Samuel Goldenberg. He opened the lid of his trunk and started rummaging inside. Interalia sniffed and walked into Raven's room. She was lying on her back on the double bed, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling.

"Oi Scary Chick. What's up?"

Raven looked at Interalia with large sad eyes, the colour of mist floating over a tranquil pool.

"Samuel told me that we... he and I... can never be."

Interalia's mouth fell open. "Oh _no_!"

"He says he is just not attracted to Humans. Not in _that_ way." Raven put her hand over her eyes. Her other arm flopped down on the blanket. "Still, he let me off gently. It's always best to be honest about these things, and not leave me... hanging on. Hoping against hope..."

Interalia took Raven's hand between her own and stroked it gently, looking up at her. "If there's anything I can do to comfort you, _anything_ at all... Oh hang on." She dropped Raven's hand. "I don't fancy Human chicks either. Ye gods, he don't lack for confidence does he?"

Raven chuckled. "Confidence is good. Delusions? Not so much. So now what?"

"His Lordship pulls his special secret agent mojo, we find your old gang and kick butt."

"Works for me," said Raven. 

 

They walked back into the lounge to find Baron Goldenberg now wearing a set of dark leather armour. Schmuÿle was folding up the other outfit and putting it away in the trunk.

"What," said the Baron. "Did you think I conduct covert operations dressed like some purveyor of sexual favours? I need to get in touch with some SI:7 agents here, and find out if they have seen Mr. Baltar or any of his associates. Then, we acquire one of these associates, get the information we need, and so unravel the whole ball of string. You wait here and don't attract attention to yourself. Schmuÿle, follow me."

The Baron and his servant left. They heard the key turn in the lock, and disappearing footsteps. Griggin walked up to the door and found it was locked. He shook his head.

"I imagine Baron Samuel Goldenberg is quite shrewd in his own way, but he has just left three rogues and a warlock behind a locked door." Griggin turned round. "That is the thing with clever people. They often think everybody else is stupid. What shall we do?"

Griggin turned round. Interalia was on her knees by the Baron's trunk, her ear pressed to the side, slowly turning the dial. Nix sat next to her, simply looking at her. Raven sat down on one of the sofas, pulled out a whetstone, spat on it and started sharpening her daggers.

"We do nothing to make him change his mind." 

* * *

Trixie put the last of the plates and forks and spoons and Aubrey's bottle in the steam-powered dishwasher and closed it. She turned the dial to "hot" and hit the button. Working her fingers to the bone, she was. She turned round.

"Mum? Can I go off to the Golden keg for a bit?"

"Sure. No smoking, no drinking to excess and no throwing yourself into the arms of the first man you see. Home by midnight, please."

Trixie pulled her coat on. "You didn't say I couldn't run away with a circus."

"If you do, get us all free tickets." 

 

Trixie ended up taking the long way to the inn. She wandered through the Trading District with its many shops. She walked into the auction house to see if there were any nice weapons on the list. Sometimes, people would "find" weapons on people who had recently shuffled off their mortal coil, and put them up for sale for ridiculous prices. Trixie had picked up a nice pair of shoulder pieces that way, only slightly damaged. Having engineers and metalworkers in the family was dead useful. She hesitated a moment looking at a pole arm, and almost put a bid on it, then changed her mind. She had too much stuff as it was. She looked at the sign of the Gilded Rose, the inn by the bank, but the ale there was not as good as the Dwarfs made it, overpriced, and being near a bank, you got bankers in there. Wunches and wunches of them. She crossed the street leading to the great gate of Stormwind, and walked up to the gryphon masters to look at the large creatures perched on their nests of hay. The gryphons here were not the ones people flew all over Azeroth. They served as a kind of rubber stamp for the magical constructs that flew from here to there, and then disappeared. One day, she'd have one. She walked down the stairs, and headed for the Golden Keg. A pint of Barleybrew would do her good. See? All this time outside on her own and she hadn't thought of Richard once. Stuff him.

"Trix!"

Trixie drew up her shoulders. Thunderclouds drifted across her face and she resolutely stepped on. She needed a drink.

"Trixie! Wait!"

Someone grabbed Trixie's shoulder. She resisted the urge to punch whoever it was in the face. She turned round and looked into his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I've been looking all over for you," said Richard.

"Yeah? Why?"

Richard looked at his shoes.

"I miss you," he said, simply.

"What? No nice girls out in Westbrook who don't stink of fel magic?"

"Not a one," said Richard. "They're not you."

"Well isn't that a pity? So now you've found me, get lost. I'm not playing that game anymore."

Richard put his hand on Trixie's shoulder. Trixie slapped it away and glared at him.

"Don't give me that. If you think I..."

"Wait. Could you come with me for half an hour? To the Blue Recluse?"

"Sod you. Why would I want to do that?"

Richard took a deep breath, then looked into Trixie's eyes.

"Someone I want you to meet." 

* * *

Wu Chong Mao had turned out to be a friendly, boisterous, Pandaren woman. She was also a highly capable arcane mage, and unlike many a mage Mustrum had met before, she loved to talk about her arts and share her knowledge with anyone who asked. They had started out comparing their scrolls in the Pandaren camp until it became too windy. Then Wu Chong Mao had suggested they continue their discussion over dinner and Mustrum had suggested the Blue Recluse, with perhaps a trip to the mage tower later. They were now sitting at a table with their scrolls held open by the empty cheese platter and empty coffee cups. Mustrum was writing down a list of the Virtues of Mind as used by the _kung_ _fu_ of the Pandaren mages: Courage, patience, endurance, perseverance and will. It showed a completely different philosophy from that used by the mages of the Eastern Kingdoms, and drawing up the tables to compare Pandaren mages to Stormwind ones was going to be a challenge. The Pandaren way, though, was utterly fascinating, precisely because it was so different.

There was a cough next to their table. Mustrum looked up, mildly annoyed at being disturbed, then saw it was his only son.

"Richard? What are you doing here?"

"Um," said Richard. 

Mustrum raised an eyebrow, then turned to his new mage friend. "Wu Chong Mao? This is Richard, my son."

" _Ni-hao_ _Li-cha_ ," said Wu Chong Mao. "It is a great pleasure to meet you."

"And you, Ma'am," said Richard. "Um. Dad? There's something I have to tell you."

Mustrum's face was completely still, not unfriendly, but on the other hand not giving any hint as to his mood.

"In private?"

Richard took a breath, tightened up his stomach.

"No, Dad. I don't want this to be secret anymore. Not from you, not from _anyone_."

"Well? Out with it then."

Richard looked over his shoulder, and gestured to Trixie, who was waiting by the door. She came walking up, looking defiant.

"Dad? You remember Trixie?" Richard raised his hand to cut off any remark, though Mustrum didn't look like he was going to say anything. "I love her, Dad. She's been my girlfriend ever since we were living in Ironforge. Up till last week, when she dropped me for not telling you about her sooner. That was the worst week of my life. Now when I walk out of this inn, I'm going to ask her if she'll have me back. No matter what you say."

Wu Chong Mao sat back in her chair, with a little smile on her face, safe in the knowledge that none of this was her problem.

Mustrum looked hard at Richard.

"My son, I would really have preferred to hear of this from you first."

Richard blinked. "You _knew_?" He looked round at Trixie, who shook her head.

"Not from me."

"That, my boy, is besides the point. You have been with this, this..." Mustrum looked at Trixie.

"Trollop?" suggested Trixie. "Tart? Succubus? Demon botherer?"

" _Young_ _woman_ ," said Mustrum, "For _years_. And I have to learn it from someone I met purely by accident this afternoon."

Wu Chong Mao raised her hands. "Not from me, either. I believe you have Thunderpetal to thank for this. He means no harm."

Mustrum sneered. "If you must know, he sang your praises. But for him to know more of my son's love life than I do myself. That is disappointing, Richard."

Wu Chong Mao put her hand in front of her face to hide her laugh.

" _Mus-t'lumu_ , there is a lesson from a wise old tortoise that you do not yet learn. Control. It is an illusion. My daughter, I simply hope she knows that if things are bad, she can come to me. So far, she does not do this. When I am still in Pandaria, she brings home this smelly, lazy peasant boy that she says is her true love. I do not approve of this person, no more than you do of this girl. But do I tell Fang-hua to get rid of him? Never. It does not work."

"Do you mean to say that if I _hadn't_ expressly forbidden my son to..." he waved vaguely at Trixie.

"Jump on top of?" she said, and raised her eyebrows, clearly suggesting she could come up with more.

" _Associate_ with," snarled Mustrum. "That this affair would never have lasted?"

Wu Chong Mao sighed. "No, I don't. But we have to be the trusting fools sometimes. Trust that our children know who to keep and who to throw away." She stared at the table, enjoying, perhaps, some private joke. "This boy, we learn that he is an avatar of the River God, and that he looks for a mortal wife. Fang-hua, she is smart enough to send him packing."

Everyone could not help looking at Wu Chong Mao.

"The River God has a new bride every year. Sometimes more than that," she explained. Blank stares all round. Wu Chong Mao looked up to the heavens. "He has _many_ True Loves!"

Mustrum gave a kind of grunt. "Be that as it may, I do not want a Warlock in my family. Not to mention..."

Trixie stepped onto a chair, planted her fists on the table and glared at Mustrum.

" _Nobody_ wants a bleeding Warlock in the family, Mr. Sparkbolt. Nobody in their right mind wants to _be_ a Warlock. How often do you wonder whether the thing you are doing is the _right_ thing? Maybe once a week? Depending on how ugly the job gets? What if I'd tell you that my dad has to think of that every day of the week? His whole life, Daemons have been whispering at him, egging him on. What if I'd tell you that if it wasn't for him, there wouldn't be a bloody hot tap in the whole of sodding Ironforge? What if I'd tell you that if it wasn't for his work, no bloody Paladin would know how to defend themselves from Daemonic attacks? You don't know the first thing about my dad, you don't know the first thing about my mum, and you don't know the first thing about _me_!"

Mustrum Sparkbolt bristled at her. "I know enough to..."

"What if I'd tell you I'm carrying Richard's child?"

There was a dead silence. Trixie looked from the pale face of Mustrum Sparkbolt to the equally pale face of Richard, noting, most unhelpfully, that they had the same cleft in their chins.

"Well, I'm not. We used those little hats that you can get in the alchemist shops." Trixie moved closer. "Because we're bloody _responsible_ _adults_! But you find that harder to believe than that I'm some little floozie, do you?"

"Gods, woman, are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?" Mustrum took a breath. "Anyway, _my_ opinion hardly seems to matter, does it?"

"Damn right. I don't care what you think of my dad, I don't care what you think of my mum, and I really don't give a damn about what you think of me!"

Trixie jumped off the chair, turned round, and ran out of the door. Richard looked at her, then at his father. Mustrum gave him a look.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get after her!"

Richard nodded, and ran.

Wu Chong Mao smiled. "I may have to borrow that girl when I miss Fang-hua. Feed her."

Mustrum looked at Wu Chong Mao. "Is your daughter not here with you?"

"No," said Wu Chong Mao.

"She is well, I hope?"

"So do I. She can take care of herself, wherever she is."

"Don't you know where she is?"

Wu Chong Mao looked at the door where Trixie had just left, and her face became still.

"Orgrimmar," she said. 

 

Richard caught up with Trixie about half way through the Mage District. Trixie could always run faster than he could. Was that a good sign? He put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked back at him with tears running down her face.

"Trix?"

Trixie sniffed, and said nothing.

"Trix, I love you. Please come back to me."

"Damn you," said Trixie. "Damn you. I really, _really_ want to tell you to get lost, and don't ever talk to me again."

Trixie faced Richard, balled her fist, and hit Richard's shoulder. Hard. Trixie wouldn't know how to throw a soft punch.

"I..." Richard looked at the ground. "I understand."

Trixie looked up into Richard's face. "But I don't want to. I don't bloody want to. And I hate myself for it, but..."

She wrapped her arms round him, put her head on his shoulder and hugged him so hard he couldn't breathe. Slowly, carefully, Richard put his arms round Trixie and hugged her back. Daringly, he stroked her hair. Trixie gave a loud snort. They stood like that, without a word, for a long, long time. Then Trixie's eyes found Richard's.

"I promised Mum not to jump into the arms of the first man I saw. I've got to go talk to her." Trixie let go of Richard. "See? That's how you do it."

She turned to the harbour and took a few steps, then looked over her shoulder.

"Aren't you coming with?" 

 

"Why _Richard_!" Lenna beamed at the boy who had just walked into the door with her daughter. "How nice to see you again! Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee perhaps?"

"Um," said Richard. "Tea would be fine, missus S."

"Oh don't be silly dear. Call me Lenna."

Trixie's eyes moved from her mother to Richard and back. Something was going on.

"I'll get the tea," she said, and stepped out into the kitchen.

Lenna watched her go with a smile on her face, then looked round to Richard, in a way that reminded one of cannons leveling at their target. "So you're here to kiss and make up, then?"

"Um," said Richard, wilting slightly.

"Oh that's nice," said Lenna. "I heard your father was in town, for a chat with the Pandaren mages."

"Um, yes he is. Trix and I went to look him up."

"You did? Do give him my best when next you see him."

Trixie came walking in with the teapot, three mugs and one bottle of You Milk, heated to body temperature. She turned to Richard.

" _Don't_ put this in your tea. She's crying again, Mum." 

"Insatiable," said Lenna. "We're not going to run out are we?"

"Enough for a few more days. Interalia has been busy with that milk pump."

Lenna left briefly, and came back with Aubrey in her arms. She passed the screaming little bundle of joy into Richard's arms and handed him the bottle.

"Bottle goes in where the noise comes out," said Lenna.

Richard looked at Lenna, then gently tipped the bottle up. Peace and quiet returned.

"So Richard, how many do you want?"

Trixie looked at Lenna with wide eyes. " _Mum_!"

"Well, that's what you were practicing for, wasn't it?"

Richard studied the progress of the milk down the bottle. The flow rate was quite impressive and of great interest. Trixie glared at her mother, but couldn't find anything to say. Aubrey broke the impass by spewing out some of Interalia's milk. Lenna handed Richard a towel, and he wiped Aubrey's tiny face. Aubrey looked up to him expectantly. Where's my milk? Honestly. Can't get the staff these days. Richard obeyed. Lenna laughed quietly to herself.

"So. Your father is alright with Trixie now?"

Richard looked up. "It's... an ongoing process, Mrs. Steambender. But I've told him about Trix and me."

"That's good," said Lenna. "Feel better now?"

Richard gave Lenna a strange look, then looked out of the window for a moment, eyes miles away.

"I do," he said, and suddenly laughed. "I really do."

Aubrey drew his attention back to more important things. He put the bottle back into her mouth. 

* * *

Richard and Trixie stood by the door to Steambender Manor, a little apart, each waiting to see what the other would do. Richard coughed.

"So..."

"Yeah," said Trixie.

"Are we alright, then?"

Trixie stood on one foot, then on the other.

"I..."

"I'm sorry Trix. I should have..."

"Yeah."

"And, well, I did now, but..."

"You did," said Trixie.

"So. Are we alright?"

Trixie's blue eyes slowly turned up to Richard's. Her face became still, as doubt, uncertainty left it. A smile slowly grew, like the breaking of dawn. Trixie kicked the door closed behind her, grabbed Richard's shirt, and spun him round into the door. She kissed him, softly, once, and then the dam broke and she kissed him as though she wanted to make up for years of holding back.

Apparently, they were. 


	12. The market at Ironforge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know that Mussorgski’s title is “Limoges Marketplace”, but Limoges doesn’t exist in Azeroth, so you get Ironforge, OK?

The key turned in the lock, the door opened and Baron Samuel Goldenberg came in, followed by his servant Schmuÿle. Interalia looked up from her knitting and banged her fist on the table.

"Heads up guys, it's the screws!"

"Damn," said Raven. "Keep 'em distracted while I pour this _prison_ moonshine down the latrine!"

"Pick up your _own_ bloody soap," said Nix.

"Good evening gentlemen," said Griggin. "I trust the evening went well with us safely out of the way?"

Baron Goldenberg looked at them, a mildly bemused expression on his face.

"Why all this hostility? I merely took a small precaution for your own safety. It would have been inconvenient having to explain your presence to the unsavoury characters I have to work with in this place."

"Hey! I resent that," said Raven. "Some things that aren't savoury are _sweet_!"

"Please spare me your feeble attempt at humour," said Baron Goldenberg. "Let us return, however reluctantly, to the matter at hand. I have consulted with a few of the SI:7 operatives in Ironforge. It would appear that Miss Raven's former associates have moved, or perhaps extended, their area of activity to this fine Dwarven city. Their _modus_ _operandi_ has been observed in a few places. The descriptions given by the victims match some of Miss Raven's former gang members."

"What? they found a new piece of bait?" Raven sniffed. "She'd better not be prettier than I am."

"You will soon be able to judge for yourself, and perhaps take the appropriate revenge," said the Baron. "Our mandate includes deadly force. Our orders are to remove the gang as a threat."

"By any means necessary," said Schmuÿle, with a nasty grin.

"It is almost always a pleasure to see someone enjoy their work," said Griggin. "Have our adversaries been sighted anywhere?"

"They ply their trade at the market," said Baron Goldenberg. "I think I may be about to have my pockets picked. Or be lured to a terrible fate by a fair damsel."

"That is regrettable," said Griggin. "Anything we can do to help?" 

* * *

Thunderpetal sat in an out-of-the-way place, meditating. His hands lay in his lap, his eyes were closed. His consciousness floated above a younger and more foolish Thunderpetal, unable to change his past, but seeking to recognise it as something that his present self would no longer be in danger of repeating. Sometimes, your younger self could be a complete prat. Briefly, he asked himself what an older Thunderpetal would think of him now, but never mind that.

After he had given his staff to Huang, Thunderpetal had become more aware of the anger that lived within him. He would never allow it to make him hurt his friend again, but still, it was there, a dark cloud floating over him. Was this anger something that he had always carried within himself, or had it come from outside, like an unwelcome guest? Was any notion of it coming from the outside a simple wish to keep his self pure and good? To place the blame for almost hurting his best friend on some dark outside agency? As time went on, young Thunderpetal became more and more worried about it, and eventually, his father called him for a serious talk. Father confessed to being stumped as to what had turned his placid son into a blood-thirsty maniac. But there were others who might be able to help. To be precise, the monks of the temple of the Jade Serpent in the Jade Forest. It would be a week-long journey on foot, but Thunderpetal was well used to walking. Huang, on learning of Thunderpetal's plan, immediately offered to join him. All the crops were in, stowed away, and there was nothing much to do on the farm except feed their beasts, which Thunderpetal's father and Huang's mother could do easily. 

 

As the leaves were turning golden, and the air was crisp with the promise of snow, Huang and Thunderpetal stood by the door of their farm, and prepared to say goodbye to their respective parents. Huang's mother urged him to dress up warm and keep out of trouble. Thunderpetal's father just gently bumped him on the shoulder, wished him good luck and told him to write. They walked across the fields to the road to the north-west and set off, walking along in silence. Huang had Thunderpetal's staff, Thunderpetal went without a weapon. They were passing through the Thunderfoot Fields, passing Pang Thunderfoot's homestead. The Thunderfoots were neighbors, but the family was so large that it was more difficult _not_ to be a neighbor to at least one Thunderfoot. Thunderpetal's father had always been on good terms with them, and often they had helped each other bringing in their harvests. They stopped for a light meal at a shrine that had a beautiful view of the waterfall across the stream. Then continued on until they came to a stone bridge, and looked for a while at the stone dam that held the stream in check so that the Thunderfoot fields could have more water to irrigate the crops of turnips, carrots, cabbages and many other vegetables. How the Thunderfoots had managed to keep the river in check while they built the dam, neither of them could imagine.

As the sun set, an ominous shadow loomed in front of them. This was the Forest Heart of the Valley of the Four Winds, and to two young Pandaren, it was the very nature of fear. They decided to camp for the night on its border, and dare the forest with a fresh supply of daylight. They lit a fire, cooked a very basic meal of rice and dried fish, then prepared to settle down for the night.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn," said Huang, "I am told that we should set a watch."

"Why?" said Thunderpetal, "We are still in decent places."

"There are... Hozen in the Forest Heart, and large snakes, and giant wasps, and evil spirits, and..."

Thunderpetal looked doubtfully at the shadow of the forest ahead.

"They won't come out to us here, will they? We have a campfire. Wild animals are afraid of fire."

"Evil spirits don't fear fire," said Huang. "Nor do Hozen."

"Hmm," said Thunderpetal, stroking his chin. "I suppose we'd better, then. Do you want the first or last watch?"

"I will take first watch," said Huang. "I will wake you at midnight."

"That means neither of us will get a full night's sleep," said Thunderpetal. "Are these the hardships of adventure?"

Huang put some more wood on the fire.

"It's not as hard as becoming one of those bulges in a python's body. Your night's sleep starts now." 

 

Back on the Pandaren's island near Stormwind, Thunderpetal smiled. Throughout their journey to the Jade Temple, keeping watch had never saved them from anything bad. Still, who knows what might have happened if they had both gone to sleep? Fortune favours those who prepare themselves. Of course, the things you prepare _for_ hardly ever happen. Fate has an infinite supply of ways to mess up your day, and you can never prepare yourself for the unexpected. You can only prepare to be surprised. Thunderpetal got up, and walked off in the direction of the cooking fires. A mug of tea would be most welcome. 

* * *

Interalia lay back, wide awake, in a canopied double bed large enough to lose her husband in.

"She's hungry," she said.

"Mwh?" said Nix.

"Aubrey. She's hungry. I can feel it."

Nix pulled interalia a bit closer and put his face in her neck.

"You know, when me or Trix got hungry, Mum used to just put us out in the forest to hunt up our own dinner. None of that sissy breast or bottle feeding stuff."

"Sod you," said Interalia. She turned round, facing Nix. "Damn it, Nix, I'm a butt-kicking terror of the night, and I'm feeling _maternal_!"

"Look, my mum is a butt-kicking fire mage. Don't sweat it. Your cred is safe."

"Nix Steambender, my love, my life, my darling? Compare me to your mum once more and I'll hurt you."

"I don't kiss my mum like this," said Nix. 

* * *

Every other Wednesday was market day in the city of Ironforge. Once, it took up just a few small stalls on the commons, close to the ditches leading down into the flames. From there it grew, gradually taking over the whole of the Commons, sprawling out onto the square in front of the library, and even outside on the platform, which due to the cold outside was quite suited to selling fish and other things best kept fresh. Ironforge was never a quiet place, but at market days, just about the only place to get some peace and quiet was to walk over to the Mystic Wards, where the priests and paladins had put their foot down and kept the bustle out. Nobody puts their plate iron boot down like a Dwarven paladin. The Ironforge Market was a great opportunity to lose large sums of money, if not to the merchants, then to the thieves and cutpurses that moved unseen among the masses despite the honest efforts of the city guards.

In the herd of bodies, it was not easy to move about, but Baron Samuel Goldenberg managed it by sheer force of personality, or perhaps through the slack-jawed horrid fascination of the onlookers. If push came to shove, the shove was provided by Schmuÿle, who in his neat black suit was practically invisible. Griggin was following them at a few dozen paces, staff in hand, hood pulled over his face, looking every bit the Dark Sorceror. People glanced at him, then got out of his way quickly. Nix, Raven and Interalia were in the wings, hiding on the first floor of buildings, flitting from location to location unseen. They kept an eye on each other as well as on the Baron, and communicated with the hand signals they'd learnt all those years ago from Fenthwick, the rogue trainer.

So far, nobody had laid a finger on the Baron, which was most uncooperative of them. Baron Goldenberg walked along the stalls, now and then commenting on the merchandise, making the occasional purchase and paying from an impressively large purse, mostly using gold coins and waving away the change. If ever anyone was begging on his knees to be robbed, then Baron Samuel Goldenberg was it. Without even looking over his shoulder, the Baron walked into the walkway that connected the east arm of the Commons to the Great Forge, with its famous anvil and its craftsmen. These days, they were mostly a tourist attraction. The heavy industry was in the lower levels of ironforge where the general public wasn't allowed. Nix, Raven and Interalia clambered up the walls, and ran through the corridor that was normally used by the Gryphons that flew into and out of Ironforge.

"Ye gods," said Interalia. "His Overlordship is really laying it on in spades, isn't he?"

"Any more, and he'd need a flashing sign saying 'I Have Lots Of Money, Please Help Yourself'," said Nix.

"He's overdoing it," said Raven. "If he'd tried that with me back in... my youth, I'd have signalled the gang to stay the hell away."

"Let's hope your replacement isn't as smart as you are," said Interalia.

"Nobody is," said Raven, climbing down the wall on the other end of the corridor. "A miracle I'm still so modest. Everybody spot him?"

"His Lordship shines with the radiance of the Sun," said Nix. "Oh sod, he's going by the Forge. Does he think we can bloody fly?"

"He knows we're awesome," said Interalia. "Own up. Who told him?"

"I'm going left," said Raven, and sprinted off.

"Right," said Interalia.

Nix watched the ladies disappear, then set off behind the Baron. 

 

Griggin watched as the Baron stopped on the bridge across the lake of lava that fed the Great Forge. He walked to the side of the bridge and stared into the roiling mass of molten rock, the heat of which was siphoned off a few inches above the surface by what was probably the most powerful heat transferrence spell in the world. He had often stood in that very place, making wild plans on how to turn the enormous energy in that lake into something that would make the lives of the people of Ironforge better, providing them with hot and cold running water. Amazingly, he and a few of his engineer friends had actually pulled it off, and the Ironforge Gnomish Network for the Implementation of Thermal Energy, IGNITE for short, now ran every hot tap in the place. There was a tap on his shoulder, and he looked round to see Nix.

"Hi Dad, if you get a chance, tell his Lordship to dial it down a bit. He looks like bait, not like a good catch."

Griggin only nodded and Nix disappeared in the direction of the Hall of Explorers, passing the Baron.

A few dozen steps ahead of him, the Baron was on the move again, and Griggin followed, keeping a sharp eye on anyone near the Baron. The normal _modus_ _operandi_ of Raven's old gang was to lure the victim to a quiet place where they could have their way with them, but there were several competent pickpockets among them. The Baron's purse probably held enough gold for one of them to retire on.

As Griggin watched, a young Human boy sidled up to the Baron, and nearly bumped into him. Griggin's mind reached out to the boy, and he spoke the final three syllables of a spell that had been revolving in his mind ever since they entered the market. The effect was immediate. The boy's face turned pale, and he stood still, his body shaking uncontrollably. Griggin grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the bridge. He looked at the boy with dark gleaming eyes.

"What is your name?"

"I... I..."

"Out with it, boy," said Griggin. "Don't make me waste my time."

"People call me Spag, Sir."

"Spag. Good. Did Baltar send you?"

"Sir?" The boy looked at Griggin.

"Did you know that once your body is on fire, your clothes act like a wick, and you keep burning like a candle until all the fat in your body is gone? It can take hours. _Did Baltar send you?_ "

The boy nearly fainted. "Nosir! I don't know anyone by that name!"

Griggin looked at the boy's face for a few moments. If he was acting, he deserved every ounce of loot he'd got.

"Today, Spag, you live, but _only_ because you are not the thief I am looking for."

Griggin pulled a few coins out of his pocket. "Go to the Mensa Silex, and have a meal. Then think about where you want to be in five years. Now get out of here."

The boy took the coins, muttered a few incoherent words and ran. Griggin shook his head and turned back to the Baron. 

 

Griggin caught up with the Baron and Schmuÿle in a small shop by the Library, where he was running various kinds of fabric through his fingers. Griggin drew near, pretending to be interested in something else.

"I take it our street urchin was not connected to Miss Raven's gang?"

"He wasn't. The rogues say you are too obvious. They would like you to act more natural."

"When they have reached my rank in SI:7, that is the day I will start taking orders from them."

Griggin sneered. "In that case, please see it as advice, rather than orders."

"Their advice will be taken on board," said Baron Goldenberg.

"And thrown over the side as soon as we leave port," added Schmuÿle.

Griggin took a deep breath. "Lead on, Sir." 

 

Despite the Baron's attempts at acting natural, they hit gold. They passed from the Hall of Explorers to a place where there was a small tranquil pool of water. Raven had to admit the operation was carried out smoothly. A pretty blonde girl wearing thigh-length trousers and a shirt that left her midriff bare, walked across the Baron's path, and smiled at him. The Baron looked. Hell, _Raven_ looked, though more with a professional eye to just the right amount of hip wiggle and hidden promise, than anything else. They continued on towards the Mystic Ward, when there was a high-pitched scream, and they could just see the poor defenceless girl being dragged into one of the doors by a big man, to a fate worse than death. The Baron, in his role as Sucker, immediately gave chase, followed by Schmuÿle. At a safe distance, so did Griggin. Raven followed, almost bumping into Interalia. Nix was behind her.

"Recognise that guy?" said Nix.

"Yeah," said Raven.

They ran on to see if Messrs. Steambender and Goldenberg needed any help. The evildoer and his prey were still on the move, luring the Baron deeper and deeper into the building. A few dozen yards ahead, Griggin stood still, chanting a spell of summoning. A few moments later, the Felguard Skurikraksha appeared, axe in hand. It gave Griggin a look filled with hatred, contempt, and outrage that such an inferior creature should be allowed to press it into servitude like that. Griggin motioned it to follow, and he ran on. Meanwhile, the thieves had decided they had the Baron where they wanted him. Four of the thugs now closed in on the Baron and his servant, who were standing back to back. Schmuÿle had pulled out a set of brass knuckles and was looking round with an evil grin on his face.

Griggin wasn't having any of this. He was here as the heavy artillery, and by the Titans, if there was any hitting to be done, he was going to do it.

"Skurikraksha! Attack! Axe storm, please."

The Daemon simply grunted, and with an unworldly speed rushed out to the thieves. With bulging muscles, it started spinning round on the spot, hitting all that came too close. Griggin marched forward, seemingly unaware of the deadly whirlwind of steel, then raised his fists. The ground round him blossomed into fire. Two of the thieves were hit by the Daemon's blade, and were dead before their dismembered bodies hit the ground. Two thugs lit up in flames, and rolled round screaming on the floor until they stopped moving. The girl, who was not dressed to kill at all, had hidden herself somewhere in the room.

Griggin finished his fire spell, dismissed his Daemon, and came walking towards the Baron sucking on a healthstone. One of the unpleasant aspects of the Hellfire spell was that it also burnt the caster. Healthstones helped with that, though you really did not want to know what they were made of. The Baron shot him a filthy look.

"Mr. Steambender, I believe I made it clear that I needed some of these people _alive_."

Griggin raised his eyebrows. "I can count, Baron. There were six of them, including the scantily-clad young lady. We have four dead. Two remain unaccounted for."

Nix, Interalia and Raven came calmly walking up, seeing as how Griggin had done the hard work already.

"Hi Dad," said Nix. "You got them, then? You alright?"

"I'm fine," said Griggin. "Two still missing, so keep your eyes open."

As if she had been waiting for Griggin to say that, the blonde girl broke cover and ran at full speed towards the exit. The Baron pointed.

"Get her!"

"On it," said Raven and sprinted after the girl. 

* * *

Raven caught up with her just as she put her hand on the door. There was no need for subtlety here, and Raven kicked her legs out from under her, jumped on her, and twisted her arm behind her back.

"Gotcha," said Raven. "Congratulations on your new job. You really look the part."

The girl turned her head to look at Raven.

"Cordelia? They told me about you."

"Only nice things, I hope?"

"You betrayed the Brotherhood."

"I'll take that as a 'Yes', then."

"Sod you. What do you want from me?"

"Me? Nothing. Now my new friends, they want you to tell them where to find the rest of your happy family."

"I wouldn't tell them even if I knew."

Raven said nothing for a moment, then let go of the girl's arm and sat down with her back to the door.

"Just let them work on you for a while. You'll tell them anything you think will make them happy. Some of my new friends are really not nice people."

"I'll never betray my friends," said the girl.

Raven looked at the girl standing in front of her, arms crossed, looking down on her, defiance and bravado masking the underlying fear. Raven shook her head.

"Before you give them your undying loyalty, there's a few things you should know. First, Baltar. He used to work for the Stormwind Assassins. Now he doesn't. They're a bit upset about that. They set the sodding _Goblins_ on them."

"Piss on the Stormwind Assassins," said the girl. "The Brotherhood took me in when I had nowhere to go. If it wasn't for them, I'd be dead now."

Raven smiled. "Have they stopped hitting on you yet? I had to make it pretty clear that any piss-head that went to sleep next to me would wake up without his nuts."

"They have," said the girl. "I hooked up with Jolo. He's very jealous and easy to keep happy."

Raven chuckled. "That's one way to do it. But Jolo's going to be dead. Baltar is going to be dead. If I saw right, Yorrick is already dead." Raven's face darkened. "And I can guarantee you that little shit Ghostfinger is going to be dead. I want him dead as much as I want Baltar dead. They're all going to be dead, girl. I don't have to explain what'll happen to you, do I?"

The girl gave Raven a nasty look. "So. What are you going to do with me? Hand me over to your new Goblin friends? Watch them break me? Watch them take hours and hours to find out I really know sod all about the inner workings of the Brotherhood?"

Raven got up, and stepped close to the girl, looking into her eyes.

"No. I'm going to let you go. I'm going to help kill everybody else, but you are only a newbie. When I'm looking at all their corpses, I'll say to myself that at least I let _you_ go. I hear Kalimdor is nice this time of year."

"So you really are a traitor then," said the girl.

"I suppose I am," said Raven. "But only after they did this to me." Raven opened her leather jacket, pulled up her shirt and showed the girl the scars on her stomach. "Baltar did that, and he did it because he needed to show his brothers how badass he was. Me today. You tomorrow. Just keep that in mind if you feel like telling Baltar all."

The girl looked at Raven's face, and saw that she was completely serious. Raven stepped aside and opened the door for her.

"Run," she said. "Run like hell. Get on a bird and get your sorry arse out of here." 

 

Raven walked back to the Baron and the Steambenders. The Baron turned to her with a sneer on his face.

"Where is she?"

"She got away," said Raven.

"And here I thought you were competent," said Baron Goldenberg. "But never mind. We have another."

Raven looked, and took a short breath. On the floor, hands tied behind his back, lay the one person she hated more in all this world than anyone else, except Baltar.

"I believe you know this gentleman?"

"Ghostfinger," said Raven. He'd been in the gang before she was. Practically before anyone was. Before Baltar took over by killing the previous leader. He'd know _everything_.

Ghostfinger looked round and grinned at her.

"Oh, I _told_ him. I _told_ him you were a bad one. She's too smart, too smart by far. Turns out I was right! Ghostfinger's _always_ right!"

The Baron grabbed a handful of Ghostfinger's hair and pulled his face up towards him.

"We would quite like to know where your friends are. Could you tell us where to find them?"

Ghostfinger cackled with laughter. "Shitty-faced goblins. Think you're people, do you? Little cheats with your little grabby fingers in everyone's pockets. We'll grind you up and turn your bones into shit-paper."

"Yes, yes," said the Baron. "Where are your friends? Where are they hiding?"

"In the shadows. In the corner of your eye. Behind you when you least expect it, and then you _die_!" Ghostfinger's laugh echoed in the dark room. "You _die_ you little turd! Yesterday, I shat in the Great Forge, and I could hear your little brother go... Fssst!"

The Baron looked up. "Schmuÿle..."

As Raven watched, Schmuÿle sat down on Ghostfinger's back, and took one of his hands.

"This little piggy went to the market," said Schmuÿle. He held Ghostfinger's little finger in his fist, bent it back, then further back, till there was a snap. Ghostfinger screamed, then laughed, then screamed again.

Raven's breath was racing. She'd let the girl go. She'd let the girl go, so she wouldn't be here, screaming as the little green _bastard_ broke each of her fingers, while she wished she had something to tell them, something to stop them...

" _Miss_ _Raven_!"

Raven's head snapped round towards Griggin.

"Miss Raven, I need your help." Griggin looked round to the Baron. "Sir, I think there is another avenue to pursue. We'll be in the tavern if you need us."

"If you must," said the Baron. 

* * *

Nix, Interalia and Griggin took Raven back to the tavern. She fell down on a sofa, eyes closed, shaking.

"Little _shit_ ," said Raven.

Griggin gently took Raven's hand, and she pulled it back in a reflex.

"Miss Raven? I know what you need. In the other room, there is an enormous bath. Interalia?"

"Running it," said Interalia.

"We made those taps," said Nix. "Let me show you how they work."

"Piss off, dearest," said Interalia, then grinned at Nix. "Maybe later. _This_ round is girls only."

They gently led Raven into the bathroom. Griggin and Nix left Interalia to help Raven out of her clothes and into the bath. 

"Oh my, they've got _every_ kind of bubble bath here! Oi Scary Chick? Lavender or lily of the valley?"

Raven was simply floating in the water, and said nothing. Interalia splashed water over her and she startled, and looked up.

"Lavender, or lily of the valley?"

"Don't give a damn," said Raven.

"Oh snap out of it, will you?" Interalia dropped her clothes and jumped in, sticking two bottles in Raven's face. "Lavender. Lily of the valley. Which?"

Raven stared at Interalia.

"You may think it makes no odds," said Interalia. "But if you walk out of the bathroom smelling of the wrong flower, there can be... trouble."

Raven half opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.

"Oh you don't want to know," said Interalia.

"This is stupid," said Raven. "You're being stupid at me."

"Gah! Got me there." She shook the two bottles. "Which?"

Like a broken cup being glued together again, like strapping on armour after you have it repaired, Raven's expression returned to normal. There were cracks in the cup. The armour now pinched in places where it had fitted snugly before, but it'd do for now. The sparkle returned to Raven's eyes, and she grinned at the tiny woman standing in front of her, water up to her neck.

"Both," she said. 


	13. Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today we visit the deep dark places of the soul, the things that you don’t want to get out in the sunlight. Like, for instance, underwear.

"Ye gods," said Nix, sniffing the air. "Were you planning to do anything stealthy tonight?"

Interalia stepped behind Nix and tried to slap his head. Nix caught her hand, tripped her up and held her in his arms, her face inches from his.

"Lavender _and_ lily of the valley?"

"And something purple that claims to be violets," said Raven, falling down on the sofa. "Meant to do something to things I never knew I had in my skin."

Griggin walked up to Raven. His dark eyes met hers.

"Miss Raven, do you trust me?"

"No," said Raven immediately, without looking away. "No offence. I don't trust _anyone_. Why would I want to trust you?"

"We still do not know why Baltar is so unreasonably eager to off you, that he even attacks you in my home."

"If at first you don't succeed..."

"Why the hurry?"

"The judgement of the Brotherhood is swift and sure, like the footsteps of Doom."

"Why does one want to kill anyone?"

Raven grinned. "To strike fear into the survivors, to silence their voice, to make sure they can't hurt you anymore. Or simply because you don't like them very much. Or because you're a sodding psychopath and can't sleep of nights until you kill a Gnome."

"And which of those do you think applies to you?"

"I'm not a Gnome."

"You will simply have to live with that fact, Miss Raven."

"I'll find a way. So I suppose he simply wanted to make an example of me."

"Because you embarrassed them by showing us your miserable excuse for a hoard? Seems to me like that's a bit of a risk to take."

"Hey! There's some good stuff there. Needs a bit of love and care, but then it'll be good as new."

"Though not as good as your current armour. Which leaves only one thing. You know something."

"I know many things. Nothing that makes people want to kill me, though."

"Maybe," said Griggin. "Maybe not. But that is ultimately irrelevant. You are a very keen observer. Baltar _thinks_ you know something."

"Well, I haven't a clue what it is."

Griggin gave a small nod. "I want to help you remember what it is, but I'll have to put you under a spell to do that."

Raven's face became hard. "Another one of those Warlock headjobs? I've had a lifetime's supply of _that_ , all in one go."

"The difference is that I mean you well," said Griggin. "But there is no denying that you will be completely at my mercy. Are you willing to pay that price for knowing why Baltar is after you?"

Raven said nothing for a few moments, her eyes fixed on Griggin's face.

"You piss around with me, you die."

"I will not 'piss around with you', Miss Raven. You have my word."

"Let's do it then." 

* * *

Huang and Thunderpetal entered the Jade Temple on the eve of Winter. They stayed there for a long time. Huang simply fell in love with the lore that Priestess Summerpetal, one of the teachers there, had to offer. Unending rows of scrolls of healing magic, everything a young monk needed to know about weaving the mists into the spells that took away the pains, aches and diseases of the world. Thunderpetal spent most of his days practicing martial arts under Liu Flameheart, a Pandaren woman who was normally the kindest soul one could find, until the moment a novice Pandaren monk bowed to her, at which point she turned into a complete psychopath. She gave Thunderpetal a very good idea of what Huang had felt like when he attacked him without mercy. The only times when he was not simply trying to fend off Liu's blows was when, despite his efforts, the old anger rose to the surface. It did not actually improve his defence, but it made him not care about getting hurt. These episodes were rare enough that teachers wrote them off as momentary loss of temper, but in all his days at the Jade Temple, Thunderpetal never dared spar with Huang.

Days turned into months, months into years. In the summer of their fourth year, things finally came to a point for Thunderpetal. He was practicing with Liu Flameheart, and she hit him with a particularly hard stroke in the midriff that made Thunderpetal stagger back, gasping for air. When he got up again, black smoke seemed to rise from his skin and he whirled round, actually scoring three hits on Liu's arms. She leapt back and turned up her defence by several notches. She fended off several of Thunderpetal's attacks, then decided enough was enough and swept his legs from under him. Thunderpetal landed on his back, and while the wind was knocked out of him, she knocked his staff out of his hand, rolled him over, sat down on his back and put a perfect arm bar on him.

"What was that all about, student Léi-shēng Huā-bàn?"

Thunderpetal bared his teeth. "Enemies are there to be _destroyed_! Suffering and death are their fate! We grind them down till not even a memory remains of them."

"I am not your enemy," said Liu. "Yet."

" _Everyone_ is my enemy!" Thunderpetal tried to jerk free, but when Liu had you, then that was that.

Another monk came walking up, drawn by the noise. He looked down on Thunderpetal, then bowed to Liu Flameheart.

"Teacher Flameheart. What appears to be the problem?"

"Student gone mad, Lorewalker," said Liu, casually.

"Have you been teaching them from the Bundles of Pleasure again? You know that always makes them restless."

Liu shook her head. "Very little in those that is applicable to martial arts."

Lorewalker Stonestep bowed down, grabbed Thunderpetal's snout, and turned his face up to look into his eyes. He let go immediately, jaw dropping. His eyes slowly turned round to Liu's.

"Teacher Flameheart, this student is afflicted by the _Sha_ of anger! How is it that this was never seen before?"

Liu Flameheart stared blankly at Lorewalker Stonestep, then back down at Thunderpetal. Now that the Lorewalker had mentioned it, it was so obvious. How could she _not_ have seen it?

Sensing her doubt, Thunderpetal gave a sudden jerk, kicked his legs up and sent Liu Flamewalker flying. Liu recovered, all doubt thankfully driven from her mind by something that needed to happen _now_. Thunderpetal ran at her. Liu spun round on one foot, and placed the other precisely on the side of Thunderpetal's head. Thunderpetal's eyes glazed over, his knees gave and he collapsed like a tea-towel placed on its tip. 

 

He woke up in the hospital, in a dimly lit room. He was strapped to a bed, but next to his face, there was a cool drink with a straw in. Since it was obviously meant for him, he drank. Then, he cleared his throat and called out. After a few moments, Priestess Summerpetal walked in, followed by Huang, who was looking much, much too cheerful.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn! they let me heal you! I used the Stance of the Wise Serpent, then Soothing Mist, and followed up with a roasted barley tea poultice. Does your head still hurt? Mistress Liu Flameheart tried to be gentle, but you were unconscious, which means you had a concussion." Huang beamed at Thunderpetal. "I prescribe bedrest, and to drink plenty of fluids."

Thunderpetal closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Huang.

"What would I drink _except_ fluids? If it wasn't fluid, I would be eating it, not drinking it. Except if it was soup."

Priestess Summerpetal moved forward holding a candle. She held Thunderpetal's eye open and watched it intently, then held the candle in front of it and took it away again. She nodded, then put the candle on the side table. She undid the straps round Thunderpetal's arms and legs.

"I am afraid you have more to worry about than a boot to the head from Mistress Flameheart, Thunderpetal. The _Sha_ of Anger has taken root in your soul. Have you never had these rages before?"

Thunderpetal glanced at Huang. "I have, Mistress. It is why I came to the Jade temple."

"Then why in all these years have you never mentioned it?"

"I..." Thunderpetal's eyes unfocused. "I didn't want to, Mistress."

"Didn't want to."

"And I don't know why not," said Thunderpetal.

Priestess Summerpetal nodded, as if this made perfect sense.

"I have put the _Sha_ to sleep, but with time it will awaken again. You will need to learn the meditations that keep it in check. Which means, I suppose, that you are destined to be a Brewmaster. One cannot heal with aggression just beneath the surface, and as for Windwalking, that is out of the question. You must avoid aggressive thoughts at all cost."

Huang's eyes gleamed innocently. "This means people will hit _you_." 

* * *

Griggin had dimmed the light in Raven's bedroom, shooed away Nix and Interalia, and gently nudged Raven to the couch. She had removed her chest piece, and lay there in her shirt and leather leggings. Raven looked at Griggin.

"So. How does this work then? Do you have to..."

Griggin put two fingers on her forehead. Raven's eyes closed and her head sagged to one side.

"You are in a comfortable place," said Griggin. "Your body is floating, and your mind is smaller than a fly, invisible, invulnerable, all-seeing. Everything you are about to see, has happened already and cannot hurt you anymore. Whenever you feel afraid, you only need to will it and you are back here, comfortable, safe. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Raven, after a moment.

Griggin nodded. This spell was effortless on a willing subject, but sometimes, people resisted without meaning to, and he had to check.

"Miss Raven, tell me a secret. Any secret will do, but it must be something you would not tell anyone."

Raven thought a moment.

"There was this Lady who was travelling through Theramore with some servants. I was after her jewellery. So I see all her servants are downstairs in the inn, and I go up the stairs, pick the lock to her rooms and stick everything in a bag."

Griggin waited. This was simply Raven admitting she was a thief. She'd already admitted as much to them. Raven continued.

"So I'm just about to leave, when I hear this noise coming from the other room. Human voices, but no words, just moans and the occasional little shriek." A faint smile played on Raven's face. "So I open the door, sneak in, and there she was, the Lady, naked on the bed, with the face of one of her serving girls between her thighs. She had this riding crop and was smacking her with it, if she wasn't doing her best." Raven fell silent.

"Miss Raven, I do not believe you have finished. This sounds like a story you'd only be too happy to tell over a pint or two. What is the secret?"

"I don't do girls. Never did, never will. Not my thing." Raven's voice slowed down a bit, wavered. "But those two, they just hit me below the belt. Don't know why. I stayed in the room the whole time, watching, until they were just lying there all cuddled up. Was just a kinky game. Probably paid her extra for it. I wanted to join in. Almost convinced myself the serving girl wouldn't rat me out if I gave her that crop to use on the Lady. I got out of there steaming hot. Never told anyone." Raven's voice returned what she normally sounded like, like she was telling you a joke about the world. "The guy I sold all their stuff to could't believe how lucky he'd got. Got a _very_ good price."

"I see," said Griggin. Well, that was another case of 'Be Careful What You Ask For'. It rang true. Which meant that she was now well and truly under his influence.

"Miss Raven, I would like you to return to the evening of the Pandaren welcome feast. You left early."

"Aubrey, Mr. Steambender. Raven is just a nickname." Raven gave a sparkling laugh. "I _liked_ Aubrey. I would have liked being her for a while. Name's passed on. I wonder if Mavis'll have me if I'm just Raven."

"I'm sure she will. What happened after you left?"

"Got caught. Big guy called Brent. Strong like an ox and almost as smart."

"Where did he take you?"

Raven hunched her shoulders, bent her head down.

"Shady Lady. Very bad tavern. All kinds of scum hang out there. Never drank there. Girl on her own can get herself killed."

"Where then, Miss Raven? Remember you are safe. Nothing can touch you."

"Out the back. Place called Cutthroat Alley. And not for nothing."

"You are floating behind the young woman, Miss Raven. Where next?"

"Down the stairs. Why do they always shove you? What's the sodding hurry?"

"You are warm, safe, like floating in a warm bath," said Griggin. Raven stopped shivering, and her breath slowed down again. "What happens next?"

"Baltar. He says... I know the Warlock. I say no." Despite Griggin's efforts, Raven started to shiver again. "I don't want to be here."

"Just a little more, Miss Raven. You are safe. You are warm. You are with friends. What did Baltar say next?"

"He says that I led you to the treasure room. I'm a _traitor_! I'm _not_ a traitor, only worthless junk there. I don't want to go on."

"You are doing very well, Raven. What did you say?"

"I told him what we had in there. No treasure, just broken chainmail... rusty sword, cheap rings, some floozie's underwear... _Please!_ "

Griggin frowned. Perhaps Raven had seen more than she knew. Baltar would have known how perceptive she was. Which could be a reason to silence her. Still, Griggin already knew what came next. No need to let Raven suffer through that again.

"Come away."

"I'm... sorry."

Griggin watched Raven's face. Her lips were trembling. Then, he realised. She wasn't apologising to him, but to the poor young woman, for leaving her alone in that cellar.

"She's alright, Raven. _You_ are alright. We got her out of there. She's fine. You are fine. Tell me. You are fine."

"I'm... fine," said Raven, with an unsteady voice. "I'm fine," she repeated.

"Good. Now tell me. How do you know what is in that treasure room?"

"I went through it," said Raven. "I was hungry. Looking for something I could sell. Waste of time."

"Go back there now. What can you see?"

"Two shortswords. Badly rusted. Chainmail, rings come loose, rusty, bloodstains. Helm. Ornamental dagger, badly made. Oil lamp, glass broken. Trunk of books, In Thalassian I think, pages rotted away. Small jewel box, empty. Cheap rings with green stones in them. Jam jar full of copper nuts and bolts. Tins of fish, rusty, years old, bulging, not opening _them_. Clothes, rags. Ladies' underwear and bra."

"Did any of it fit you?"

It was a throwaway question, just to lighten the mood a bit. Raven smiled.

"Wouldn't be seen _dead_ in clothes like that. Nice underwear, though. Lacy."

"So why not take that, then?"

"Don't have enough to put in it. Baltar's taste in women is really..." Raven moved her hand.

"Adolescent?"

"Yeah. Besides, they're _monogrammed_. What sort of bimbo has monogrammed undies?"

"Hmm. What are the letters?"

"S-A-N."

Griggin made a note. It didn't ring any bells, but then again, he was a happily married man and didn't know any ladies of the night.

"Anything else in the hoard?"

Raven took a breath and rattled off another list of things.

"...and three planks of wood. That's it."

Griggin sat still for a moment, then drew a circle round the monogram on his notepad. The only vaguely interesting thing. Nothing worth killing for. He looked at Raven. Time to bring her out of this trance.

"Miss Raven, soon you will wake up. You will feel calm and relaxed, and you will remember everything you told me." Griggin hesitated. "Except you will _not_ remember telling me about the incident with the lady and her serving girl, or what happened with your buyer afterwards. And neither will I." That was not actually true, but Griggin could do without remembering his friend's private erotic fantasies. He held his hand over her forehead. Raven blinked, and grinned at him.

"Why are you so interested in underwear, Mr. Steambender?"

"It is the only thing with any information. I honestly cannot see what any of the other things have to do with your predicament, unless something was in those books."

Raven bent over to Griggin with a mischievous look in her eyes.

"I'm wearing a black bra, and black underpants." Raven's voice went husky. "They're _very_ practical."

"Thank you for that wealth of information, Miss Raven. My cup runs over and only an ingrate would desire more. Let's find Nix and Interalia and see if they can think of something." 

 

"Underwear," said Interalia. "You had her under your spell, her whole mind yours to rummage through, and all you managed to dredge up was _underwear_?"

" _Monogrammed_ underwear," said Raven. "For a girl considerably more talented than any of us, even you."

Interalia sneered, and looked down. "Half of this is padding. I'm bloody _leaking_! What am I, a _cow_?"

Griggin coughed. "The monogram was S-A-N. Does that ring a bell with anyone?"

Nix stared at Griggin. Interalia stared at Griggin.

"Raven?" said Nix, "Large S, small a, large N?"

"Yeah. Curly script. Why?"

Interalia grinned. "You've held, in your mortal hands, the calling card of Syrana al Namhaid. She's a Dark Ranger, and pretty much the only person better at stealth than we are. She's been sneaking round Stormwind for years, with nobody noticing except Renzik."

"Did this Baltar guy allow anyone into that storeroom?" asked Nix.

"In a sense," said Raven. "The lock was a crappy one. Took me all of a minute to pick it. He did make a lot of noise about it when he found out, though, but he never knew it was..." Raven fell silent, the 'Ah' clearly visible on her face. "Me," she finished.

Griggin grinned. "And there we have it. Mr. Baltar has fallen for the charms of a Dark Ranger, which he did not want anyone to know about."

Raven stared at the wall. "The unmentionables of one of your playthings, I said. Oh gods." She closed her eyes, thinking hard. "When we got back to pick up Thunderpetal's recipes, they were gone. Baltar probably took them away when he found out someone had been in there." She sat back on the sofa, her hand slowly moving under her shirt.

"Well, that explains things." 

* * *

The door opened and Schmuÿle walked in, followed by his master. He seemed to be in a very good mood, but nobody wanted to ask why. The Baron closed the door and started to take off his showy outfit. He opened his trunk and stared. Staring back at him was a plush bunny. Interalia jumped up.

"Bertram! How did you get in there?" She snatched up the little rabbit, and glared at the Baron. "Can you explain that to me, your Lordship?"

Baron Goldenberg's eyes turned cold as he looked at Interalia. "Would you Light-forsaken amateurs _please_ stop treating this as a holiday? You have obviously found a way past my lock. Congratulations. Did you take anything?"

"Nothing," said Interalia. "It looked like you'd get plenty of stuff nicked anyway."

"Hold up your hands," said the Baron. "Come on. Do it."

Interalia shrugged, and did. The Baron turned over his purse into Interalia's hands. Rather than gold, a stack of iron washers, bits of wire and pieces of copper rolled into Interalia's hands. With long, precise fingers, the Baron removed a small item, and held it up to Interalia's face.

"A tracking device. If Miss Raven's associates would have stolen my purse, we would have known where they hide." The Baron turned round to each of them. "I would very much appreciate it if you would stop treating me as if I were an imbecile. I am not in the habit of discussing the intricacies of my plans with minions. It only makes them think they can make decisions."

"His Lordship only tells _me_ when things need hitting," said Schmuÿle, looking rather pleased about it. "Like just now. Except I twisted his arm out of its socket."

"Indeed," said Baron Goldenberg. "Mr. Ghostfinger eventually told us where to find the headquarters of the Old Barracks Brotherhood. It is in one of the basement levels, near the Gates. We will prepare ourselves and go there. When we do, you will obey my orders to the last word, do I make myself clear?"

Raven looked down on the Baron. "What did you do with Ghostfinger?"

"You'll be pleased to know we deemed him surplus to requirements."

Schmuÿle grinned. "I broke his neck. It keeps his blood from spraying all over the scene like when you cut their throats. The cleaners always complain about that."

Griggin coughed. "We found out why Baltar is after Raven. As it turns out, he does not wish it to become known that he has, shall we say, 'communicated', with a Dark Ranger spy named Syrana al Namhaid."

Baron Samuel Goldenberg slowly turned round to Griggin. "Well done, but we knew that already. It is the main reason why we want Mr. Baltar, first alive, then dead."

Nix gave the Baron a look. "You knew that? How?"

"Because we caught her, and had her in the Stockade."

"You _caught_ her? I didn't now that!"

The Baron didn't think that worthy of an answer. "They did a little work on her, but I don't think they ever really broke her. It was quite clear that the names she gave us were people she had not got round to killing. We are still verifying that information. She's dead. If anyone is interested, her last words, to Shaw, were 'get on with it'. Which he did."

"Well," said Raven, "We had some of her underwear in our hoard. Seems she was definitely talking to him."

The Baron shrugged. "She was quite alluring to some Humans, and often used that to get what she wanted. Nobody was going to get her pregnant after all. Now then. Get ready. Against my better judgement, I am taking you into the catacombs of Ironforge." 

 

Ironforge as most people knew it, was a large circular cavern, centered on the Great Forge and the lake of lava around it. What not many people knew was that behind well hidden and closed doors stairs and elevators led down to lower levels. Deep below the mountains lay roads that never saw sun or sky. Only Dwarves were allowed there. Any of the other peoples would be instantly distrusted, dragged before the guards. And still, there were bolt-holes there unknown even to the King himself, excavated inexpertly by Humans or Gnomes, or by the Dwarves themselves and forgotten about. The meeting place of the Warlock Circle was one of those places. So was the place where the Old Barracks Brotherhood hid when they could not hide in plain sight, in the mass of people. They also hid there things they could not immediately turn into gold. The entrance was a little way away from the Gate of Stormwind, behind a sturdy wooden door. They were standing round it.

"This is it then?" said Nix.

"Yes, young Mr. Steambender," said Schmuÿle. "So the Human told us."

"You're sure he wasn't lying?"

"Nobody can lie with their arm hanging off loose and a knife at their family jewels."

The Baron looked round. "Quiet everyone. We need to be behind this door. In that house, there is a large wardrobe. Inside that wardrobe, there is a hidden entrance."

"To the Magic Kingdom," said Interalia, walking up to the door and giving it the once-over.

"When I want your opinion," said the Baron, "I will give it to you. That door is locked tight. Now what we need..."

Griggin coughed. "The words 'small charge' are hurrying towards your lips, are they not?"

"When in doubt," said Schmuÿle, "Seaforium."

"Thereby reinforcing prevailing stereotypes about Goblins," said Griggin. "Don't you think Dwarves might notice if they see the smouldering remains of a door?"

"By the time they do, we will be long gone," said Baron Goldenberg.

Raven shook her head. "The guard by the Stonefire Tavern is already watching us. Everybody, look innocent."

"Well, Mr. Steambender, if you can think of a better way to get us inside that house, feel free to educate me."

"It's open," said Interalia.

Baron Goldenberg glared. "Impossible. We tried to force that lock, and failed."

Interalia's eyes gleamed. "That's 'cause you're not as good as me. Coming?" She pushed open the door and walked inside. 

 

Inside the house was a normal looking living room, except that there was a thick layer of dust on everything, except for a path on the floor. It led from the door, up the stairs, and into one of the bedrooms.

"Gosh," said Nix. "I wonder which wardrobe the _secret_ entrance is behind."

Schmuÿle grabbed Nix by his jacket and pulled him close.

"Baron Goldenberg wants you to keep your little gob shut. Do you understand what that means?"

Nix looked over his shoulder at Schmuÿle. There was a short noise and Schmuÿle's eyes glazed over. Nix grabbed his arm, bent down and threw him to the floor with a very satisfying thud. Nix held Schmuÿle down in an arm-lock.

"I've just about had it with you. _We_ are here to get the bunch of piss-heads who hurt Raven, broke into our house and damn near killed my wife and child. There's four of us, not counting any Daemons, and two of you. Which means you're along for the ride. Got that?"

Schmuÿle gave a kind of grunt.

"Not good enough. _Got_ that?"

"Yes," said Schmuÿle.

"Good. I'm glad we had this little talk." Nix let go of Schmuÿle's arm and got up. Schmuÿle's eyes darkened.

"Don't even think about it," said Interalia.

"Schmuÿle, stop playing around," said Baron Goldenberg. "Now open that wardrobe."

Schmuÿle got to his feet with poor grace, opened the wardrobe and reached inside. There was a crack and flying chips of wood. Schmuÿle stepped back and pointed.

"Entrance M'lord," he said.

"Good. Everybody in."

"After you," said Nix to Schmuÿle. "I insist."

As Nix stepped into the dark, Interalia drew near and whispered in his ear.

"Scary Chick is not getting in the bath tonight." 

 

The entrance behind the wardrobe led down to a steel door. Interalia, without a word, got out her lockpicks and opened it. She opened the door at a crack and looked inside. She held up three fingers, then made the sign for 'Guards'. Everybody drew weapons. 

Raven and Nix were first into the room, followed by Schmuÿle. Griggin came next, hands aglow with dark magic. He hadn't summoned any daemons yet. Raven and Nix attacked. Schmuÿle calmly walked up to the third guard, side-stepped when she stabbed out at him with her sword and kicked her in the knee with a sickening cracking sound. The guard fell down. Schmuÿle grabbed her by the throat and punched her in the face with his brass knuckles. He kept on punching until her head was nothing but a bloody mess and her arms and legs stopped twitching. Then, looking at Nix, he ran his tongue down his fist.

"I _think_ you got her," said Nix. "Wanna make sure?"

Schmuÿle grunted, and walked towards the other door. Raven looked at his back. She wiped the blood off her daggers, applied fresh poison and put them away.

"Bloody psychopath," she said. 

 

The door led from the guard-room to a flight of stairs. Which led to a dark room. Being underground, it was pitch dark, and nobody's night vision would penetrate it. Nix reached into his pocket and pulled out a chip of shining crystal from Un'goro Crater. There was a twang in the room and an arrow hissed inches over his head and struck the wall. Nix closed his fist on his crystal, dropped to the floor, and rolled over.

There was a shout from Griggin to get out. Nix, well aware of the kind of thing his dad could do, scrambled away as Griggin stepped into the middle of the room. They heard him shout Words of Power, and there was a rush of air. Then, the floor of the cavern started to glow, and an ominous red light shone upon the frightening form of a winged Daemon. Crossbow bolts flew, hit the creature, and fell to the floor at its hooves. It cried out words of death in a dead language, and the whole room lit up in a cruel light, first red, then orange, then a searing white. The light disappeared, leaving impenetrable dark and silence. Then, there was a scratching sound, and a small light shone. Griggin turned up the light and turned round, searching for survivors. Raven, Nix and Interalia walked in, turning over bodies. Raven turned to Griggin.

"Baltar isn't here. Counting the ones in Stormwind, and the ones we got earlier, I think we've got about half the gang. Unless they've been recruiting."

Griggin rubbed his chin. He needed a shave.

"How large _was_ this gang, exactly?"

Raven shrugged. "Hard to say. There were maybe two dozen in the Old Barracks, but people come, people go. We didn't exactly have a membership list."

"Still, we got twenty-four if I'm counting right. One in the Old Barracks, Mum got one in Stormwind, we got four when they attacked the Manor, four more when they snatched His Lordship, one sneak, the three guards here, and..." Nix looked round. "Six here."

"That's _twenty_ ," said Raven.

"Not in _real_ numbers," said Nix.

Baron Goldenberg walked in, fuming.

"You coprocephalic _idiots_! What is it about 'leave a few of them alive for interrogation' that you do not grasp? How are we supposed to find Baltar now, with nobody to pump for information? This. _This_ is why I hate having to work with amateurs."

Griggin, who had been studying the walls by the light of his gas torch, now turned back to the Baron.

"Your Lordship, I have a suggestion."

"I shudder to hear it," said the Baron.

"Why don't you find out the present whereabouts of Baltar, go to that location, and apprehend him?" Griggin gave him a satisfied smile and a nod, then looked over his shoulder. "My children, let's go."

They walked out of the room, leaving Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuÿle in the dark. 

* * *

"Thank you very much for your custom, Mr. Steambender. Please visit again soon."

"A pleasure as always, Mr. Smolt. Good day to you."

They walked out of the Stonefire Tavern, and set off for Tinker Town and the Deeprun Tram to Stormwind. Nix looked up at their old home.

"Hey! The lights are off. Dad, do you think 2.0 is empty?"

Griggin looked up, distracted.

"Maybe." He took a deep breath. "Before we go, I need to have a word with Chief Warlock Sindala. That basement we were in. The markings on the wall were in Eredic script. Which means that someone has been using Daemonic magic there. I felt it when I transformed." "So?" Raven pulled up the strap on her overnight bag. "There's warlocks in Ironforge, aren't there?"

"I know every place that our Circle uses. This is not one of them. Also, these markings are... unsophisticated. Words crossed _out_ for the Light's sake! Warlocks are scary people at the best of times. _Inept_ warlocks scare the Lights out of me."

Nix stared. "Noob warlocks? Oh crap. They'll summon things they can't control, won't they? Because bigger Daemons are _cool_."

"Precisely. The Circle may have to find them and show them the error of their ways." Griggin sighed. "You get on the tram. I'll be along later tonight. Please tell your mother I'll be late." 

 

Griggin walked down the stairs, followed by two cloaked and hooded Gnomish shadows. One was called Briarthorn. When Griggin was living in Ironforge, he was acting chief for the other Gnome, Chief Warlock Sindala, Griggin's boss when it came to Daemonic matters. They entered the room by the light of torches.

"What's that _smell_?" said Briarthorn.

"Crispy Human," said Sindala. "The smell is quite distinctive. Your work I assume, Griggin?"

"I am afraid so, Chief. Here we are. Observe the writing."

Briarthorn held his torch up to the wall. " _Prutswerk_ , he said. What a shoddy job. Don't these idiots know to keep their writing straight? I'd be surprised if they could summon even a _sprite_ in this place."

Chief Sindala sucked his teeth. "The problem, Briarthorn, is not whether the Daemons will show themselves. It's what happens when they do. I must have a word with the Dwarves. One of their experiments may have ended badly. Very badly indeed."

"Good luck with that," said Briarthorn. "Not very open to criticism, your average Dwarf."

"Hah," said Sindala. "I think even they will have to pay attention when the alternative is finding out how inventive Daemonic torturers are. From entirely the wrong perspective."

"I wonder if they actually managed to complete a summoning here," said Griggin.

"Not likely, if you ask me," said Briarthorn. "Look at this. It's a Sayaad code of binding, but if you look closely, there's a Void Oath underneath it that they didn't erase completely. This would never have worked."

Sindala shook his head. "If there is one thing more dangerous than a failed summoning, it's a _successful_ summoning without proper control. I've seen enough. Let's get out of here."

Griggin was the last to leave. As he stepped through the door, a cold shiver went up his spine, and he quickly looked over his shoulder. Nothing. He shook his head and followed his fellow Warlocks back into the light. 

 

In the dark cellar, there was the tiniest of sounds. With the lights out, everyone was invisible. No need to waste mana. There were no eyes in that room to see, no souls to feel the eerie sense of joy that filled it. No ears to here the broken voice, whispering.

"Griggin Steambender. Of all the mortals who could walk into this place, it had to be you." 


	14. Cum mortuis in lingua morta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter what else Google comes up with when you stick this title in, it means “With the dead in a dead language”. Things are about to get slightly disturbing. Oh. And Thunderpetal is finding out about a novel and interesting way to break his neck.

Thunderpetal was sitting in front of his tent, with a wooden board on his lap. He'd used a ball of putty to keep the inkwell from falling off, and he was writing a report for Aysa Cloudsinger. As he looked up, he saw _Lei-huen_ step out of the boat, wave, and walk towards him. She dropped her bag on the ground, opened it and took out a few bottles.

"One Thunderbrew Old Peculier, one Barleybrew Special Reserve, one Star Spangled Chicken don't ask me why they call it that, one Hopping Goblin ditto, and four Darnassian style pale ales, because I like that as well." Raven undid the metal wire at the top, pulled out the cork and handed one bottle to Thunderpetal. She held out her own bottle, and touched Thunderpetal's. "A Dwarven toast," she said. "May the best ye'll ever see be the worst ye'll ever see, may the wee mouse ne'er leave yer grain store wi' a tear in its eyes, and may all the bloody tourists bugger off and leave us in peace."

"Long life, and good health," said Thunderpetal. He tasted the ale. "This is brewed by the _Kel-do-lei_?"

"Naah. I think they hired an Elf to look down his nose at it. I just like the stuff. What can I say? I'm cheap and cheerful. The other bottles are the nice stuff."

Thunderpetal looked at Raven. She was sitting on the ground, legs stretched out, face turned up to the sun.

"How does your journey go, to Ironforge?"

Raven slowly drank from her bottle. "Didn't find Baltar. Killed a lot of people. Got nowhere in the end." She looked out over the water. "I just wanted them to leave me in peace, you know. Didn't need to kill the lot of them." Raven drank the last of her ale, dropped the bottle on the ground and sat up with her arms round her knees. "Maybe he'll be spooked enough to stay the hell away from me. Maybe not." She shook herself. "What are you writing?"

"Teacher Cloudsinger asks me to write down the story of how I come to Stormwind."

"That'll take a bit. You're a long way from home. Do you have any family back in Pandaria?"

"My father," said Thunderpetal. "He writes to me last week. All is well on the farm. A traveling Grummle brings him news of the coming of the _Olu-ku_ and _Chiu-man_ to the Jade Forest. They make a lot of noise."

"Grummle?"

"A very small people, no taller than the _No-mu_. They carry very large backpacks, and are considered very lucky."

"As in don't play dice against them, or as in keep a dried one for luck?"

Thunderpetal laughed. "You are not a nice woman, _Lei-huen_."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Raven. "So how did you come to stormwind? By balloon?"

"On foot, by kite, by giant turtle and by balloon," said Thunderpetal. He handed Raven another bottle. "I will tell you." 

* * *

Thunderpetal sat in one of the gardens round the Jade temple, in front of a small shrine. He'd lit a few sticks of incense. The smell of sandalwood drifted on the breeze. His eyes were closed. Inside his mind, all was quiet, all was still. He thought of fighting. Of beating some hapless creature to death. Cracking of bones. Gasps of pain. Blood. Nothing stirred. The angry spirit that dwelt within him was not so easy to lure out into the daylight. Thunderpetal _knew_ it was there, hidden, biding its time. Thunderpetal sighed and opened his eyes. His training in the Way of the Brewmaster was not going well. Word had got out that he was cursed, and woe to the miserable Panda cub who stirred up his anger. In his group, there was an odd number of monks, or rather, there was an _even_ number of monks and there was him. Liu Flameheart had stopped sparring with her students. She had never been afraid that she might hurt them, always completely confident in her ability to hit exactly as hard as she needed. Thunderpetal thought he'd seen her once, late at night, practicing her moves. She didn't look happy at all. As the flowerpetals fell from the orange trees, he was struck by the thought that it was time to leave. But where to? He was no closer to controlling the anger within him than he had been on leaving home. There was the soft sound of footsteps, and the rustle of pale blue robes. Thunderpetal looked round to see Lorewalker Stonestep standing next to him, looking at the shrine. Thunderpetal bowed.

"Lorewalker."

"Good evening, young Thunderpetal," said the Lorewalker. "Are you well?"

"Very well, Lorewalker."

Lorewalker Stonestep nodded, breathed in the smell of the incense, and said nothing. In the orange trees, the birds were singing. Small insects buzzed. A cool breeze stirred the leaves.

"I am afraid, Lorewalker," said Thunderpetal. "Afraid of that which is inside my Self."

"You have meditated long on this. Have you not seen this anger in all its aspects?"

"It hides from me," Thunderpetal said. "Almost like a creature with a will of its own. Though it is _my_ anger, I have no control over it. This worries me."

"You are right to be worried. I do not know the proper _kung_ _fu_ to use against the _Sha_ of Anger within. It is a subtle and difficult lore, and in all my life, I know only Master Shang Xi to have mastered it."

Thunderpetal looked at Lorewalker Stonestep's face. "Then I must seek him out, and gain the knowledge. I do not wish to become a savage and perhaps hurt my friends."

"He has gone on a long journey, beyond the Mists," said Lorewalker Stonestep. "He said goodbye to the woman he loved, and set off to find the lands of his ancestors."

Thunderpetal bowed his head. "I am sorry to hear that. May his spirit be at peace."

Lorewalker Stonestep blinked. "I do not mean that he _died_. He was born on the shell of Shen-zin Su. He went to find the Turtle in its wanderings. Whether he found it, we do not know."

"Has the Master left us any writings, Lorewalker?"

Lorewalker Stonestep shook his head. "Master Shang Xi said that even though he had penetrated the nature of the thing, he still lacked the wisdom to put it into words. He then put the matter to one side and went to do something else."

Thunderpetal's eyes turned to the sun, squinting against the late afternoon light. "It is now clear what I must do. I must follow in the footsteps of Master Shang Xi, and beyond. If only I could speak with him."

"That is not possible," said Lorewalker Stonestep. "He has left Pandaria, and we cannot find him. Unless... but no. It would be madness."

Thunderpetal looked at Lorewalker Stonestep. "What are you thinking of, Lorewalker?"

The Lorewalker shook his head. "A stupid notion. A mad idea. So many things to go wrong." He looked into Thunderpetal's eyes. "Understand that I tell you only to satisfy your curiosity, and warn you against acting upon this notion. Master Shang Xi loved a woman. Bao Yu was her name. Her beauty and kindness had no equal in his eyes. When it became known to him that he must return to Shen-zin Su, he asked her to come with him, because he did not wish to part from her. Bao Yu would not come. The journey would be too dangerous for her, and they parted with many tears. But before Shang Xi left, Bao Yu made two pendants of the most lustrous jade, and poured all her love for Shang Xi into them, so that even if he travelled to the world beyond, they could look at their pendants and face each other."

"Lorewalker," said Thunderpetal, "I would not ask Mistress Bao Yu to part with such a thing."

"She passed away some years ago, in the temple, holding the precious necklace, and smiling." Lorewalker Stonestep took a deep breath. "It is in my library, attached to the scroll in which I wrote of them. If the magic still holds, it _may_ point you to the other pendant, which _may_ be in the possession of Master Shang Xi, who _may_ still be on the Wandering Isle. I know of no way that would allow you to travel there."

Thunderpetal bowed. "Lorewalker, may I see this pendant?"

Lorewalker Stonestep smiled. "Since you will need to follow in the Master's footsteps, you may have it. Maybe it will inspire you to the wisdom you seek." 

 

Huang walked into the dormitory, and put down his bag on the rice mat on which he slept. Thunderpetal sat on the next mat, holding a thin silver chain up to his eyes, on which hung a flower made of jade. As Thunderpetal spun it in his fingers, the petals pointing away from him turned from green to yellow.

"What is that, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn?"

"It points to the Panda-ren who has the knowledge that I seek."

"That is good news. Will you visit him tomorrow?"

Thunderpetal turned his eyes to Huang. "He lives beyond the Mists, on the Wandering Isle. There is no way to go there."

"Priestess Summerpetal took me to Dawn's Blossom today, on a hospital run."

Thunderpetal frowned. "That is many miles away. How did you get back so soon?"

"We _flew_ , Thunderpetal. We flew on kites! I could see for miles!" Huang reached into his bag and pulled out his bowl and chopsticks. "One of these kites could take you to the ends of Pandaria. Perhaps even beyond. I hear we have spiced noodles for dinner. Are you coming?"

Thunderpetal put the necklace in a pocket and got to his feet. His eyes suddenly gleaming with a new purpose. He needed some food, and he needed to plan.

"I am," he said. 

* * *

It was a little past midnight in Stormwind as Griggin stepped out of the tunnel to the Deeprun Tram. It was only a short walk from there to Steambender Manor. Griggin had walked it often, visiting customers and suppliers in Ironforge. A good chunk of his business still came from maintaining customers who were using the water heaters he had designed together with his associate, the eccentric genius Marvin Sprocket. Gnomish engineers came in pairs. One, known as the "Mad", had a mind that was insanely creative, and produced an unbelievable number of designs, ideas, hunches. There were places where creative geniuses were called "sparks". Mad Gnomish scientists would produce a rain of sparks like an angle grinder on a piece of metal. Most of their ideas were worthless. Impractical, too dangerous, impossible to build without the wealth of a whole kingdom, or simply in breach of one of the laws of nature. The job of the other engineer, the "Sane", was to stand in the rain of sparks and catch the one idea that worked. In Marvin and Griggin's case, that spark had been to use the crystals that you could find by the dozen in Un'goro crater, to boil water. The crystals lasted nearly forever, and a single one could provide for a large home. The latest prototype of Griggin's water heaters, the Optimal Prime 6000x, used six of them. He was currently working on removing some rough edges before declaring the things fit for use in castles, shipyards, or as a communal water heater for blocks of houses. Then, it was a simple matter of writing down building instructions and finding customers who wanted to get steamy and hot.

As Griggin walked up to the front door, the house was dark, with only a small light burning in the porch. He turned the key quietly and walked in. The door to Nix and interalia's bedroom was open and the light was on. Nix was in the kitchen filling a hot water bottle, and Interalia was sitting up in bed, her hair down, feeding Aubrey.

"Hi Boilerman," said Interalia, looking up. "All the demons happy?"

Griggin nodded quietly, and waved at Aubrey. Aubrey didn't even move an eyelid. She had more important things to do.

"Do you mind if I come in a moment?"

Interalia's eyes gleamed at Griggin. "Sure. This is Aubrey. Now if it was Nix, then..."

"You are commendably discreet."

Griggin sat down and looked at his grand-child. After the last few days' work, he longed for a glimpse of innocence, a soul untouched by darkness. A creature that had never felt pain. Griggin blinked. Nix came walking in with the hot water bottle, wrapped in a fluffy cover that looked like a polar bear. The stopper was on, so that boiling water would not splash onto Interalia and the child. Interalia stuck a finger in Aubrey's mouth so she could suck on that instead of her nipple, covered up her naked, swollen breast and transferred Aubrey to the other side. The creature started to drink greedily.

Griggin shook himself and suddenly stood up. He found that his face had folded itself into the impenetrable mask that let no emotions out. Nix looked up at him.

"Dad? What's up?"

"Nothing. Good night."

Griggin turned round, and walked out of the room. He half imagined cruel laughter coming from the Light only knew where. He walked into his own bedroom. Lenna was asleep. The blanket had fallen away and Griggin could see the night-gown wrapped tightly round her body. _She is yours. Take her._ As if on cue, Lenna turned onto her back. The nightgown was only thin, and hid none of Lenna's ample curves, large and small. _Take her! She is begging for it!_ Griggin took a step back, and looked round the room for anything out of the ordinary. _You want her to beg, don't you?_ Griggin looked at Lenna. He had, in the past, with mutual consent, ripped clothes off her, but... _Do you want her to beg for you to start, or to stop?_ With a sudden whirl of movement, Griggin turned round, his back to Lenna, and spoke three short syllables of a spell that shut out all emotion, and put a stop to all attempts to control his mind. This being a Warlock's spell, and roughly the equivalent to slamming on the brakes on a fast moving mechanostrider, he winced at the pain in his head. At least the spell would wear off soon. Griggin ran to the entrance to his workroom, climbed down the steps, and walked to his summoning circle. Whoever had attacked his mind, now no longer bothered with secrecy. A shadow flowed down the steps, into the room. Griggin ran to one of the walls and pulled a chain. With a metallic clunk, the hatches shut. Griggin turned up the lights.

"Show yourself. Who are you?"

"Don't you remember me?"

The cloud of darkness swirled, as the form hidden within drew the smoke back into itself. It spread wings. A long whip unrolled itself. Griggin's breath stuck in his throat.

"You do, don't you?"

"Neera," said Griggin. "How did you come back? I banished you."

Neera stepped forward, into the light. Succubi took the form of women. There was no woman more beautiful, more alluring, than a Succubus. There couldn't be, because they projected into each of their victims' minds a mirror image of what they themselves thought of as perfection. They were impossible to resist. Impossible to forget if by a miracle you escaped them. When all their victim's mind was filled with a desire to touch that perfect skin, when a single kiss from those perfect lips was all they needed to complete their lives, Succubi would inflict unimaginable pain, tearing one's soul between torment and unquenchable desire, until nothing was left.

But not Neera. Its body was twisted, scarred, deformed into a grotesque parody of what a woman should look like. Long, matted black hair concealing huge breasts, wide hips, the skin a sickly grey with bones clearly visible beneath. The creature was naked, but had no genitals, like a child's doll. Its hands had long claws. Its eyes burned with a grey light in a face like a bare skull. An expression was on its face of a starving creature when it first sees a table laden with food.

"Surely, the great Griggin Steambender can do better?"

Griggin drew himself up to his full height, drew breath and chanted out the thirty-two syllables of Neera's full name. Neera screamed, raised its arms to protect its face, then stood still.

"Thus I name you, and thus I banish you," said Griggin.

Neera lowered its arms. Its laugh was the most frightening sound ever heard.

"That, Griggin Steambender, is no longer my True Name." Neera slowly walked up to Griggin and bent down till its perfectly symmetrical, skeletal face was inches from his. "You took my name away from me when you banished me. After you denied me my just revenge when that impertinent young girl violated me." Neera put a claw on Griggin's cheek. "Can you even imagine how I have suffered? A Sayaad of high destiny, with wings clipped like a pet crow? I promise you this, Griggin Steambender. Before you die, I will give you one moment. One moment of pure bliss." Neera's claw stroked Griggin's cheek, and only later did he notice he was bleeding. "And then, I will take everything away from you. _Everything_." 

* * *

"Thermals."

Thunderpetal nodded sagely, the look in his eyes urging Master Windstrong to continue.

"When people see our kites, they always think they are powered by the rockets, but those are only to get the kite off the ground, and perhaps give a little boost in adverse conditions. The real answer is thermals. Hot air rising from the ground."

"I see," said Thunderpetal. "How does one see these thermals?"

"An experienced flier can feel them," said Master Windstrong. "When there are clouds in the sky, one can observe their shape, but the Master does not need them."

Thunderpetal's face fell. Master Windstrong laughed and slapped his back.

"There are two kinds of people who come to talk to me about kites," he said. "The first kind are interested in flying, and they will ask all kinds of questions on what _bambu_ to use, where to get the rockets, how to shape the wings. Then they go away, and come back, freshly healed of broken bones, and then they ask me how to build _proper_ kites." Master Windstrong chuckled to himself. "I do not see many of them, but they give me great joy. I recognise myself in them, broken bones and all. The other kind, they simply want to go somewhere."

Thunderpetal nodded his head.

"Well?" said master Windstrong. "Where do you want to go?"

Thunderpetal produced the necklace with the pendant from one of his pockets. "I wish to go to the Wandering Isle, and speak with Master Shang Xi, so that I can control the _Sha_ of Anger in my soul."

" _Shen-zin_ _Su_? You seek the Great Tortoise?"

"Yes, Master. Could one of your kites take me there?"

Master Windstrong shook his head. "No, young monk. The sea is cold. No thermals will rise from them. The rockets on a kite such as these ones would not carry you far. There is only one kite that will do that." 

 

Master Windstrong took Thunderpetal to his workshop. In a corner, there was a shape hidden under a tarpaulin. From the sight of the thing, it was clear that it had been there a long time. Master Windstrong pulled off the cover, and waved away the clouds of dust. Underneath was a strange device.

"This kite was built by a small man named Jonno Smallfly. He was a strange creature from beyond the Mists. His landing on these shores was not a perfect one, and his flying machine did not survive. He built this kite, using parts from his broken flying machine, to take his friend flying in it." Master Windstrong smiled. "It was a great honour. Because Smallfly was not very good at reading the winds, he made his own with the machine you see before you. He showed me how he could fly, even _against_ the wind. But then, after many hours, his machine stopped working and I had to help him land softly. I have not heard this machine's roar since then, and Jonno Smallfly learnt to fly one of my kites, and passed away, quietly, in his sleep." Master Windstrong's eyes stared far, far away. "Unfortunately, he was flying one of my kites at the time." Master Windstrong pushed out Jonno Smallfly's device and extended the wings. "I will make you a deal. This device is of no use to me. If you can get it going, you may, shall we say, 'borrow' it." 

 

Thunderpetal tried, for the hundredth time, to turn the propeller on the aircraft. The thing didn't show any sign of life. Thunderpetal could see how the machine was supposed to work. The blades spun round, producing the wind that blew the kite forward. Except, of course, at the moment, they didn't. You could steer using the horizontal bar in front of the seats. Master Windstrong had brought him a cup of green tea with some rice cakes. The glint in his eyes told Thunderpetal that he was not the first hopeful young Pandaren to try and get it going again. He sniffed, drunk his tea. He might not be the first, but he would be the last. Thunderpetal carefully looked at the flyer. He frankly had no idea at all how the engine worked. There was a tank at the top, and a strangely-shaped piece of metal that was most likely the muscle of the beast. He looked at his tea, and his eyes opened wide. Drink! Of course! He walked over, opened the lid on the tank and sniffed. It smelled like nothing he had ever smelled before, and it didn't smell like something he'd drink himself. At any rate, only the smell remained. The drink that had pushed the aircraft aloft had long gone. Hmm. What drink would be right for a creature like this? 

 

Master Windstrong walked up to Thunderpetal and his project. "How is it going? Are you any nearer to repairing this machine?"

"I do not think it is broken," said Thunderpetal. "It needs drink to work."

Master Windstrong chuckled. "That is not an uncommon trait. How _is_ Pang Thunderfoot these days?"

"He is well, Master. His sons are helping Father on the farm in our absence. But I do not know what drink _this_ machine needs to work."

"I do not like it," said Master Windstrong. "It uses fire and anger to push itself where it wishes to go, without any regard to the wishes of the wind."

"Fire..." Thunderpetal pulled out a bag of biscuits, offered Master Windstrong one, and chewed thoughtfully. "The machine uses fire. Fire water."

Master Windstrong laughed and slapped Thunderpetal's shoulder. "If this machine needs whisky to work, it has expensive tastes. I am late for dinner. Please help me push this thing back inside. You can come back tomorrow if you wish."

As being late for dinner was a matter of the greatest concern for a Pandaren, they pushed the flying machine back inside. Thunderpetal gently patted the engine.

"I will find you drink. I promise." 

* * *

Nix walked into the hallway, noting out of the corner of his eye that Dad's 'Do Not Disturb' light was on. He locked the door behind him. Interalia was taking Aubrey to the priestess for her checkups, Mum was at the shooting range with Bieslook, and Trix was... nowhere to be found, actually. He'd vaguely got the message that she and Richard were an item again, and that he'd finally told his dad so. Well, good for him. Let's see how long it would last now. Nix set off at a trot towards SI:7. Dad seemed out of sorts. It probably had something to do with the work in Ironforge. Dad had done most of the fighting, and the thugs hadn't had a chance. It was always a bad sign if Dad didn't take a demon out to fight for him. It meant that he wanted to take the blame for himself rather than being able to put it on some creature unable to resist his commands. Which meant that Dad felt there was blame to take. As far as Nix was concerned, there wasn't. The gits would have killed Interalia if they could, and possibly Dad as well. Not to mention Aubrey. The more people found out what a bad idea that was, the better.

Raven had once tried to kill him, but the silly Human couldn't help herself. Tiny little mind controlled by some bastard of a wannabe warlock. Come to think of it, she'd tried to kick him in the butt on several sparring sessions, back in the day. She'd tried to set him up for a savage beating from Dora Rainfist. Dora. The most dazzling light blue eyes he'd ever seen, and quite able to hand him his arse in a fair fight. And then, he'd met Interalia, who eclipsed all others. She'd pulled him out of trouble. She had said that she also got him _into_ trouble, but honestly, Nix wouldn't have missed that trip for the world, just to watch Interalia move. Being caught and tortured, obviously, he _could_ have done without. The priests at the castle had healed him of his wounds, but without her, he'd have given up, and ended up doing the Light only knew what.

Thinking warm fuzzy thoughts about Interalia, Nix walked past the Tram entrance. A feeling of watchfulness came over him and he looked round to see a Gnome walking next to him, wearing a hooded robe, and about to put his hand on Nix' shoulder.

"Nix Steambender?"

Nix sneered. "Depends on who wants to know."

This was a phrase he'd always wanted to use, but the opportunity never came up somehow. And now that he had, it didn't have anything like the effect he'd hoped for.

"I am Chief Warlock Sindala. Don't play games with me, boy. I need to speak to your father. It's urgent. Someone is after him."

"What, after the butt-kicking we gave them? Humans. Can't win, won't quit. Idiots."

"It's not Humans. Damn you, boy, where is he?"

"Working at home."

"Take me there. _Now_." 

 

Nix overcame his instinct to tell Chief Sodding Warlock Sindala where to stick it and turned towards home. He returned to the front door to find Trixie already there, looking annoyed.

"Where have you been?" said Nix.

"Mustrum Sparkbolt's room at the Gilded Rose," said Trixie. "He had to leave early."

"So what were _you_ doing there?"

"Doggy style with Richard, if you _must_ know. We were making up."

Nix desperately wanted to say something, but was having serious trouble figuring out what.

"Fascinating though this is," said Sindala, "I need to speak with Warlock Griggin."

Sindala took a step towards the door. Trixie grabbed his arm and stopped him. Sindala tried to pull free, but Trixie had a firm grip.

"House is in full defence mode," said Trixie. "You really don't want to step up to the door right now. We boiled some serious zombie back when we had the plague, and the new boiler has twice the power of the one we had back then."

Sindala stared at the door.

"He has locked himself in. It must already have got to him." He looked at Nix. "How do we get in?"

"We don't," said Nix. "Dad designed this specially to guard against, shall we say, industry accidents."

"Then he is lost," said Sindala. "He is facing an old enemy in there. An enemy who is seeking revenge for an old injury. If there is even a hint that it may have a valid claim, then he will not be able to resist."

Trixie looked at Nix. Nix looked back at Trixie.

"Crap," they said, at the same time. 


	15. The hut on fowl's legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what it’s like when you’ve locked yourself out of the house. You just need to imagine you’re a burglar. Or ask a handy ten tear old.

"Her boobs are bigger. You want her, don't you? You _slept_ with her."

" _No!_ "

Lenna raised the bottle to her mouth. It contained a clear liquid that wasn't water at all. She glared at Griggin.

"Just because she flashed her _tits_ at you. Did she like it? Did you make her scream?"

" _No_! I didn't sleep with her."

Lenna ripped open her blouse. "If these had been bigger, would you still have wanted me?"

"No! Yes! I..."

"Aren't you wondering what you ever saw in some drunken floozie? Everybody's baby? Don't you want to know how many boys I had before I finally allowed you to..."

Lenna choked. The tips of two large swords appeared underneath her naked breasts. Blood ran from her mouth.

"Griggin, you..."

Lenna slumped forward. Behind her, eyes aglow with a fierce red light, stood Trixie, pink pig-tails and all. A look of pure evil blood-lust was on her face. She put her foot on her mother's back, and pulled out her swords. She raised up the blades, and watched the blood trickling down them with shining eyes.

"I killed her for you, Dad. I killed her. She was a rubbish Mum. She deserved to die."

"Trixie..."

Trixie laughed, a shrill sound in Griggin's basement, then swung round her swords, hacking Lenna's corpse into smaller and smaller pieces.

"How does it feel? How does it feel to be _dead_?" Trixie looked up. "I'll kill everyone for you, Dad. Everyone. I'm Fury now. I am _the_ Fury!"

"Dad?"

Griggin turned round. Nix came walking towards him, the stumps of his arms raised. Red tears ran down his cheeks. His eyes were hollow and lifeless.

"Dad? Interalia cut my hands off, Dad. How am I going to make locks now? Why didn't you stop her, Dad? She cut off my _hands_."

"Nix..."

Someone pushed up against him from behind. 

"Never mind him. Whiny little shit. I stole all of Lenna's dresses." Interalia pressed her cheek against Griggin's. "Want to see me in them? You can tear them off me if you want. I won't mind a bit. Or do you want me to struggle, perhaps?"

" _NO_!"

Trixie, her armour spattered with Lenna's blood, raised her swords in the air, and cried out.

" _Katra zil shukil!_ "

"Dad, it _hurts_."

"Forget them. I am all you need. Take me."

Griggin raised his fists and screamed.

"None of this is _real_!"

Griggin cast his mental shield spell, and almost welcomed the pain for the sudden quiet. A cruel laugh echoed through the cellar. Neera bent down over him, smiling in a way that showed her long pointed teeth.

"Just wait for your little spell to wear off, Griggin Steambender. With every try, I am improving. Soon, everything will be real." 

* * *

Thunderpetal frowned. Beer had not worked, not even the heaviest. After some consideration, he had decided against tea. Plain water was not the answer either. After each failed experiment, he had carefully taken apart the engine, dried out the parts and put them back together again. By now, he knew every piece. Master Windstrong had helpfully provided him with Jonno Smallfly's toolbox. Just as Thunderpetal put the last few bolts into the machinery, Huang came walking up.

"Is it working yet?"

"No," said Thunderpetal. "I haven't found her the right drink yet."

"Are you _sure_ that is what is wrong with that machine?"

"Of course. This tank is clearly meant to hold drink for her. At the present, it holds no drink. All I need to do is find what she likes."

"She?" Huang laughed. "How did you determine this kite is a girl?"

Thunderpetal raised his eyebrows. "Is it not obvious?"

"Not to me," said Huang. "Ships are thought of as female, but kites? It does not look very feminine to me."

"She carries us under her heart. And just look at her. Strength. Elegance. Grace. How can she be anything but female?"

Huang snorted, put a hand on Thunderpetal's shoulder.

"If you start talking to her, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, then there is this priest I wish you to talk to. Dinner is in two hours. Do not be late."

Huang walked off, laughing quietly. Thunderpetal put his hand on the flying machine's engine.

"Do not take offence. Once he sees you in flight, he will understand." 

 

"You _idiot_!"

"I am sorry, Master."

"Do not call me Master. No apprentice of mine would allow such a thing to happen."

"A thousand apologies, Master."

"I trust you with the keys to my store. My very _livelyhood_. Do you think that those were trophies, to show your friends? You were to lock it. Hozen, you miserable creature. _Hozen_ in my precious whisky barrels."

"They did not drink it, Master, or spill it."

The Master bowed down to his apprentice, who was cowering on the floor.

"They _bathed_ in it. In my priceless special reserve. They washed their filthy pits in it. They fouled it with their vile bodily excretions."

The master pointed at the open barrels.

"Get rid of it."

The apprentice's eyes opened wide.

"Pour it into the _river_?"

"No, you pea-brain. Do you wish all the fish to die? Empty these barrels into smaller vessels, and carry them on your back to a faraway place. Make sure my name is not on them." The Master breathed out a few flames. "And take as long as you wish. Do not hurry back." 

 

Thunderpetal walked from Master Windstrong's workshop back to the dormitory. He was not an impatient Pandaren, but he had to admit that the constant stream of failures was beginning to wear him down. Nothing he'd tried had even given a small spark of hope. Master Windstrong had said she used fire. He needed something that would burn. But the really strong drinks were far out of his reach, and also, if he'd tell the merchants what he wanted to use it for, they would throw him out of their shops.

"Look where you're going! Do you wish me to drop this?"

"Pardon me," said Thunderpetal, looking up.

In front of him stood a Pandaren carrying in his arms and on his shoulders about six or seven barrels. Thunderpetal was in awe of his strength and agility. With some trouble, the Panda put down his load for a moment. He pulled out a red handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

"You carry a heavy burden," said Thunderpetal. "Do you have to go far?"

The other Pandaren looked at him thoughtfully, and put away his handkerchief.

"I am returning from the market. These barrels of fine whiskey, I could not sell. As you can see, the labels have fallen off, and my Master would not wish me to sell this fine cask-strength single malt if he did not know what variety it was. He wanted me to pour it down a hole somewhere rather than risk his good name. I can't tell you, the name, of course, but I _can_ tell you that there are a lot of _deer_ in his _valley_." The Pandaren gave Thunderpetal a wink and tapped the side of his snout with a finger. "Tell you what. If you're willing to take the chance, I can let you have one or two of these barrels for a mere two gold a piece. What do you say?"

Thunderpetal gave the apprentice a blank look. "I am only a poor monk," he said. "And used to sleeping on the cold ground. I do not have that kind of money."

The apprentice took a deep breath and slowly let it escape. He looked at Thunderpetal. "In truth, I would much rather that this fine whisky be enjoyed by someone who appreciated it than that I give it to the Earth-spirits. Tell you what. Fifty silver for two barrels."

Thunderpetal scratched behind his ear. "I don't know," he said. "Can I have a small sample?"

The apprentice shook his head. "This is cask-strength whisky, the strongest drink in the world. Once I open a barrel, it will spoil within hours unless it is bottled. Fifty silver for two barrels. Take or leave."

"I'll give you fifty silver for the lot," said Thunderpetal.

"Done," said the Apprentice. "Enjoy it in good health."

Thunderpetal nodded, pulled out fifty silver pieces and handed them over. The Apprentice tossed the bag in the air and caught it. He bowed to Thunderpetal, waved, turned round and went his way, grinning as soon as his back was turned.

"Idiot," he whispered to himself.

Thunderpetal watched him go, and looked at his newly acquired half-dozen barrels of aviation fuel. He grinned.

"Idiot," he whispered. 

* * *

As they stood in a circle round the door to Steambender Manor, Interalia came walking up with Aubrey in a pram. It was the most comfortable pram ever, because Nix had made it with his own hands, and given it a state-of-the-art pneumatic spring system for the smoothest ride imaginable. They could push little Aubrey through _Northrend_ without waking her up. At the moment, the cover was down and Aubrey was enjoying the sunshine on her face.

"What's up," said Interalia. "Why are we all standing round here?"

"House is locked down," said Trixie. "Can't get in. Dad's inside, probably fighting some kind of Daemon-bitch from what Chief here tells us."

Nix fretted. "Even if he's won, if he's locked himself in the cellar, _he_ can't open it. He did that specially so that if ever something went badly wrong, it would be buried with him."

"A commendable amount of care," said Sindala. "But he should have left an opening for help to get in."

"You can just open it from the outside," said Nix. "But you have to be in the house to do that."

"That sounds like a bit of an oversight," said Sindala.

"Or a design feature," said Nix. 

 

Lenna came walking up, hand in hand with Bieslook. She gave Sindala a not-too-kind look.

"Chief Sindala. What's going on?"

"Mrs. Steambender. How much has Griggin told you of his work?"

"Do you mean to say I have been married to a Warlock for forty years, and never even knew it? If you have something to say, say it."

"An old enemy has returned. Do you remember the young warlock named Puissance?"

"I do. Nasty piece of work. What about her?"

"Her Succubus was called Neera, and Neera was bonded to her without the proper rituals afterwards. I am sorry to say that Miss Puissance touched it inappropriately. A grave crime."

Lenna glanced at Bieslook, who was looking up attentively. She loved scary stories, bless her little socks.

"Well, she got her own back, didn't she? Hardly enough left of her to bury."

"Indeed," said Sindala. "And yet, the Daemon Neera was not appeased. It demanded more. Griggin refused, and instead banished it forever."

Nix sneered. "For a very low value of 'forever'."

"Our new friends in Ironforge were quite eager to try out the wonderful new abilities they had just learnt." Sindala shook his head. "Dwarves have never been drawn to the Daemonic Arts until now. Their understanding is only now starting to develop. As I'm sure Griggin has told you, Daemons do not _wish_ to be summoned, and unless the Warlock knows what he is doing, all they manage to summon is a metaphorical middle finger from the Twisting Nethers."

"So how did a bunch of amateur Warlocks manage it?"

"The Daemon Neera _wished_ to return. The spell Griggin used to banish it, paralyses part of the Daemon's spirit in its own demesne. A mark of weakness. And _any_ sign of weakness in the Wild Nethers marks one as prey. All Daemons hate us, Mrs. Steambender, but none more than Neera hates Griggin. And it is unbound, making it ten times as strong as our own minions. There is only one glimpse of hope."

Sindala paused. Lenna frowned at him, in no mood for dramatic posturing.

"Well?"

"The Daemon Neera now resides _completely_ in Azeroth. When one's minion 'dies', all that really happens is that its hither projection is destroyed, and it can simply make a new one. Neera has had to project its spirit fully into Azeroth." Sindala's eyes turned to the door. "We can kill it."

"We need to get to it first," said Nix. "And the house is locked up tight."

Bieslook's little voice spoke up. "There's a witch in our house. Like Baba Yaga. _Her_ house didn't have any doors or windows. She flew around in a great big cooking pot."

"Yes dear," said Lenna. "Be quiet now. We're trying to think."

"She could only get in or out through the chimney," said Bieslook. 

* * *

Raven opened the door to Mavis' spice shop, wearing her civilian clothes. The bell rang, and Mavis turned round from where she had been grinding herbs into powder for a pork spice mix. All the way from Pandaria, honest. Her face lit up with a bright smile when she saw Raven.

"Hi Aubrey! It's so good to see you. I heard what happened after the party. Are you feeling better?"

"Much better, Miss Fadeleaf. Thank you." Raven hesitated. "Um. Am I still working here?"

"Of course you are. People have been asking for you." Mavis giggled. "Henry Stilger was working up the courage to ask _you_ for goat's head."

"Oh my," said Raven. "Hope I haven't given him any ideas."

"Him? Never. Staunchly loyal to his wife." Mavis studied Raven's face. "How are you, really?"

Raven looked back at Mavis. "I'm good. All healed up. I owe Huang a lot."

"Why are you really here, dear?"

Raven thought for a moment. "Hiding," she said. "My name isn't really Aubrey."

"Shame. It's a nice name. So what is your real name?"

"Raven." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I've been calling myself that since I was fourteen or so. Not what my mother called me, but it's my real name."

"Hm. What do I call you in here? Customers already know you as Aubrey."

"Aubrey's fine," said Raven. "Gnomes named their daughter after me, would you believe it?"

"I heard. Mrs. Steambender became a grandmother."

"Granny Fwoosh," said Raven. "I owe her my life."

They stood still a few moments, looking at each other, weighing, considering. Mavis jerked her head in the direction of the small kitchen and workroom in the back of the shop.

"I fancy a cuppa. Go make tea."

"Yes, Miss Fadeleaf." 

 

It was a fairly busy day. Lots of people wanting dried peppers, powders for headaches, pickling spices, the amazing new Pandaren mixture. Some people said it was good to see her again, and how was she doing? She felt a bit strange about that. Aubrey wasn't really her. She was just a disguise. And still, people seemed to really like her. If they knew who was behind that friendly smile, Raven, a rogue, a thief, with blood on her hands and a sharp knife hidden inside the sleeve of that pretty cardigan, they'd shit themselves. Raven had played lots of different roles, in her daily work of separating suckers from their money. She was playing these people now, but she wasn't actually planning to take anything from them. They left the shop with a bit more than they came in with, and Raven felt a curious mixture of satisfaction and a faint jealousy of Aubrey. As she closed the till, she spotted a small piece of paper lying next to it. It was lined up precisely with the edge of the till. Placed there carefully, purposefully, not dropped by accident. She glanced to her side. Mavis was talking to a customer. Her fingers closed on the bit of paper. On it was a picture of a hand, fingers outstretched. On the other side of the piece of paper were a few words: Midnight. North face of the main spire of Stormwind Cathedral. Come alone. Raven held her breath. The bit of paper hadn't been there a moment ago. She thought back on the customers she'd served, recalling faces, sometimes names. All normal people, but then again, what did that mean? She stuffed the piece of paper down her bra, for later examination, and smiled at the next customer.

"What can I do for you, Sir?" 

* * *

Nix and Trixie stood on the roof of Steambender Manor, and looked down into the chimney.

"Fire's on," said Nix.

"Yep," said Trixie. She pushed herself up on her hands and swung her legs inside the chimney.

"Wait," said Nix. He pulled out a handkerchief and tied it over Trixie's face. "Take a few deep breaths now. You gonna be alright?"

"Sure. Bloody warriors stand in fires all the time."

"Right. Get in there, open the door, let us all in. Don't stop for anything." He put a hand on Trixie's armour-plated shoulder. "Don't get yourself killed in there."

Trixie's blue eyes shone at him over the red handkerchief. "I'm a bloody tank, bro. Getting killed happens to other people."

Trixie jumped into the chimney, and lowered herself towards the merrily burning fire, grunting as she went. Her metal boots landed on the burning logs, and she jumped out.

"Ow, ow, _ow_ ," she whispered to herself.

Her hand went to her sword and she looked round. Nothing. She ran through the living room, into the hallway and looked again. Dad's "do not disturb" light was on, but this time, two red lights were on. He was in there. Maybe dead. Maybe still fighting. Maybe just waiting for someone to open the hatch from the outside. She had to swallow down a lump in her throat. Someone was in there, trying to kill her dad. Perhaps even strong enough to do it. She wanted to get down there and tear to shreds whoever, _what_ ever it was.

"Gonna need more firepower," she said. She turned to the control panel and shut down the house defences. She opened the door, and people poured in. Lenna grabbed Bieslook's hand and put it in Interalia's.

"Take them to the Pandaren island," she said.

Interalia hesitated a moment. She didn't want to be kept out of the action. Then, she gave a short nod.

"Come along, Squirt. We're going to the Pandas. Maybe they'll have some biscuits for you."

"Will Griggin be alright?"

"Sure," said Interalia. "Hurry along now." They disappeared in the direction of the harbour.

Lenna took a firm grasp on her staff. No more pissing about. They undid the latch on the entrance to the cellar. Nix turned the wheel and opened it. Behind them, Sindala spoke a few syllables of a summoning spell, and a little fel imp appeared. He waited.

Lenna raised herself. "Nix, you first. Stealth up. Trix next. Then me. Chief Sindala, take up the rear."

"Right," said Nix. He disappeared into the pipe. 

* * *

Thunderpetal would need a priest to remove his grin. She was _flying_! Her beating heart and muscle had been glad of the drink he'd given her, and she roared, roared with the joy of being aloft again after so long on the ground. The wind was in his face. He was having to steer a bit to one side because there was nobody in the other seat, but apart from that, she flew herself. The flyer climbed, banked, swooped, as Thunderpetal moved the bar in front of him. The sense of freedom was overwhelming. He could go anywhere. Anywhere in the world. Just now, though, he needed to go back to Master Windstrong. He moved her controls, and, because she allowed him to, she turned on one wingtip and dived down to the workshop. 

 

"You got it to go?" Master Windstrong's eyebrows tried to jump off his face. "I would never have thought that. Well done young monk."

"Now can I borrow her to seek for master Shang Xi?"

Master Windstrong gave Thunderpetal a sad look. "I am a man of my word. You can, but I wish you wouldn't. The Wandering Isle is far away, far away over the ocean. What if your pretty flyer runs out of drink? You'll drown in the Great Sea. There are places that Pandaren were not meant to go, Thunderpetal."

"Yet, there are explorers who have travelled to the lands of the _Kel-do-lei_ and returned to tell wondrous tales."

"A great many more explorers never returned," said Master Windstrong. "Nobody knows what happened to them. The companion of that pretty little bangle may well lie on the bottom of the sea."

Thunderpetal pulled out the pendant and spun it round, watching the blur of yellow to the South.

"I do not think so," said Thunderpetal.

"Go then, and take this infernal machine with you. But if you plunge to your death and are swallowed up by the seas, don't come complaining." 

 

Huang looked at the flyer, briefly wondering how it got to be right in front of the dormitory. Thunderpetal was sitting in it, wearing a leather helmet and goggles.

"Are you mad?"

Thunderpetal laughed. "I don't think so, but how would I know? Do I look mad to you?"

Huang's eyes narrowed. "You are wearing a silly hat."

"It is an aviator's helmet. Come on. Get in, I'll show you how she flies."

"Am I mad?" said Huang.

He looked into Thunderpetal's face. He was hard pressed to remember when it had ever looked happier.

"I am mad," said Huang, and got into the flyer next to Thunderpetal. 

* * *

Griggin screamed. He looked at his hands, dripping with blood. Lenna's blood, Trixie's blood, Nix'. On the floor before him lay Interalia's dead body, all the flesh burnt off the arms that still held a very small corpse. Sharp claws dug into his shoulders.

"Why did you do that, Griggin Steambender?"

"I wanted to," said Griggin. "Let them all die."

"Yes. Kill them all. Kill them slowly. Make them suffer. For all the things they did to you. Do you want to do it again?"

Griggin's teeth showed in an evil scowl. "I want to kill _you_."

He turned round, raised his hands at the skeletal winged creature and tried to cast his most deadly spells. Useless. His mana had run out. He had tapped into his lifeforce so often that to do it once more would be fatal. The most he could do was kick. Neera laughed at him.

"Little mortal worm. There's nothing you can do anymore. Not even the little bubble around your head. The next time, you will be mine. All mine. Or perhaps you are already now." 

Griggin lunged forward, and punched the Daemon in front of him until his fists were bloody. Real blood this time. His blood. Neera only laughed.

"Maybe I'll give you a little hope now. Do you want this mana potion?" She held the bottle up to him, shaking it. "Do you?"

Griggin's hand shot out to grab it, but before he could, Neera dropped it. It shattered on the stone floor. He cried out.

Neera moved its face close to Griggin's. "Don't break yet. I'm having so much _fun_."

Griggin breathed hard. "I will end you."

"No you won't, worm. Once your mind has crumbled, I will use you to kill your wife, and your children. You will be _my_ minion. And after they are dead, I will make you kill as many innocents as I can before they destroy you. All that you are, and all that you have been, will perish. What do you say, Worm? Shall we practice once more?"

With her long claws, Neera took hold of Griggin's head and pulled his lips to hers, until Griggin's body started to shake. She let go and dropped him on the floor, watching his body twitch. 

 

With a high-pitched yell, Trixie charged out at the Daemon-creature and slashed her sword across its back, finally able to unleash her full rage on an enemy. Neera turned round, and hissed at Trixie. Its claws grew and it slashed at this new arrival. Trixie blocked with her two-hander, stabbed out. The sword could not pierce the hardened Daemon-skin, and it bounced off. Trixie leapt back out of arm's reach. Neera followed her. As Neera drew back its arm to strike, Nix leapt up onto its back and stabbed it. The Daemon bent its arm back further than any creature should be able to and grabbed Nix by a leg. It dangled Nix in front of its eyes, then threw him across the room, into the wall. Nix landed with his feet against the wall, kicked off and flipped over backwards, landing on all fours with a dazed look in his eyes.

" _Down_!"

Lenna stood up straight, brimming with power, magic staff gleaming. A dazzling ball of plasma, the size of a Gnome's head, floated above the palm of her right hand, still growing as Lenna poured all her energy into it. She cried out, and a wrist-thick stream of pure light shot out towards the Daemon, setting the very air alight as it passed. It hit Neera in the middle of her body, passing through and finally spending itself in the wall behind. The ball of plasma slowly deflated as Lenna played the beam of destruction over the Daemon's body. With a final shout, she threw the rest of the plasma ball at the Daemon. It lodged inside its body. Neera's scream of hatred and anguish stopped, and its misshapen body fell to the floor, smoking.

Lenna dropped her staff and ran to Griggin, pulling him up into her lap, stroking his cheek with her hand, calling his name. Griggin's eyes opened wide.

"Get _away_ from me! Get away!"

Lenna drew her sleeve across her face, sniffed.

"Well, that's a bit ungrateful, Griggin Steambender."

Griggin shook, eyes staring into Lenna's face, torn between wanting to believe and fearing that this would turn out to be another trick.

"You are... you are _real_?"

"Yes, my love. I am real."

Griggin wrapped his arms round Lenna and pulled her to him.

"I didn't want to kill you. I didn't..."

Lenna held Griggin more tightly, made shushing noises. Then, she looked up.

"Everyone alright?"

Trixie put away her sword. "Got a blister on my foot."

"I'm good," said Nix.

Trixie grinned at her brother. "Ye gods, when that bitch threw you into the wall I was sure you were gonna break your neck. That was an _epic_ move you pulled off."

Nix brushed some dust off his jacket and studied his fingernails. "They teach it at SI:7. I was the youngest rogue to master it."

Sindala spoke to his imp, and it disappeared.

"I feel positively surplus to requirements," he said. "That was an impressive firebeam, Mrs. Steambender."

"Sod you," said Lenna, not in the mood for idle chatter. "Let's get Griggin up into the light. This place stinks of fel magic."

Just as Griggin was back on his feet, they heard a choking noise coming from Neera's broken body. Trixie's sword leapt into her hand.

"Wait," said Griggin. He stumbled over to the Daemon and turned it over so it faced up. It struggled to speak.

"Have you come to gloat, Worm? This body is done. My last body."

Griggin threw all the laws to the wind, and took the Daemon's hand.

"I am so, so sorry," he said. "I never wanted you to suffer like this."

The Daemon's face showed emotions for which there was no name in the Common tongue.

"Why not? We live to cause pain. It is..." the Daemon coughed, drew a laboured breath. "It is the way."

"It is not our way. Not always."

The light in Neera's eyes flickered, came back as if for a last effort.

"Mortal, what is it like to die?"

"I don't know," said Griggin. "We do it only once."

"I feel... alone. Nobody to torment. Nobody... to torment me."

The lights in Neera's eyes went out. Griggin put a hand on its forehead, then held out his hand to Lenna. She pulled him to his feet.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go." 


	16. The great gate of Stormwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next-to-last chapter already. Luckily, we can see that Thunderpetal and Huang are taking this flight seriously. Meanwhile, the Steambenders are having a bit of a family meeting, and Raven is enjoying her new job in the Fourth Finger. Well, maybe not enjoying as such but…

Stormwind Cathedral was the focus for all worshippers of the Light in the Eastern Kingdoms. It was a marvellous piece of architecture, with many spires, gorgeously beautiful stained glass windows depicting scenes from the scriptures. It was also, so Raven found, a pleasantly challenging climb. She found it was doing her good, after the last few weeks, to have the simple job of getting to the top. She attached a grappling hook to her belt, hooked it on a gargoyle and rested her arms for a moment, savouring the quivers in her stomach as she looked down. Noobs would seize up tighter the higher they got. Climbers knew that after the first ten yards up, it didn't make a difference how high you were, except you made a bigger splat. She undid the grappling hook, traversed hand over hand and pulled herself up on the ledge. Looking up, she saw the main spire. She looked over he shoulder at the clock of the tower near the Stockades. Ten to midnight. Easy. She took a short run-up and caught herself on the next ledge up. She sat down on the slanted roof, feet firmly braced in the gutter, and looked round. In the distance, the light beam of the Stormwind lighthouse swept lazily over the sea. A patrol of Stormwind Gryphon Riders flew over the city in perfect formation. There was a large mechanical noise underneath her, and Raven just had the good sense to clap her hands over her ears before the bells struck twelve with a noise she could feel resonating in her chest.

"..." she said.

"You're right," said someone next to her. "The view is marvellous up here."

Raven turned round. Next to her was, presumably, her contact. The first thing that struck her was that it was a rather small contact. The next thing...

" _Mavis_?"

"Hello Raven. Fancy meeting you here."

Raven said nothing, just sat there, quietly laughing at herself for not spotting kind, mild-mannered shopkeeper Mavis Fadeleaf as an SI:7 operative. She looked at her again. Mavis was looking out over the city.

"Look at it, Raven. All the pretty lights, and behind every light, there's a story. A merchant wondering how he'll pay the next bill. Couples in love. Warriors about to go into battle, savouring the last bit of home comfort. A Horde spy gathering information on us. Every speck of light down there." Mavis looked up at Raven. "And then, there's us. We're here to make sure that the stories end the way they are supposed to, and aren't cut short by some Hordish _varknaaier_ or some bleeding traitor. If I told you how many of those specks would have gone out if it wasn't for us, you wouldn't believe me. And rightly so, because I'd be pulling the number out of my butt. Nobody knows, nobody's been counting."

Raven looked at Mavis' face. She didn't look any different from last time she saw it, only more thoughtful. Mavis turned her eyes towards her, smiled.

"Want to run with the Stormwind Assassins, Raven? At the least, it'll keep _us_ from hanging you."

"Gotta catch me first," said Raven.

"We would," said Mavis. "No telling when, but you can't be lucky every time. We may not catch every thief and cutthroat, but we do catch a fair number. You really wouldn't like it in the stockade. I know. I've recruited a few agents there. Some still said no. Hanging's not the worst way to go." Mavis looked at Raven's face. "You've been robbing people for a living. You could just go on doing that. Get caught, and you're for the drop. But it would be such a waste. You could be much more than a petty thief."

"Hey," said Raven. "Who are you calling petty?"

Maven gave Raven a grim look. "You. Nicking things off defenceless civilians when you could be helping to keep all these lights aflame?"

"Pay's not bad," said Raven, pushing it against her better judgement.

"Really? Do the sums. Most thieves we catch are about thirty years old. Little Aubrey, if she lives to be, oh, sixty, will make more money out of me than Raven will, in _her_ life. Damn you Raven. How many people could climb up here? How many people could memorise all the spices in my spice rack in a minute? You've got talent. Don't waste it."

"They're in alphabetical order," said Raven. "Medicinal at the top, cooking ingredients below. Heavy drugs in the cabinet in the back room. Key's on a chain round your neck. Ask Nix Steambender for a better lock, because it'd take me two minutes, tops, to pick it. Interalia Steambender could open it quicker than you could with your key."

"Interalia Steambender." Mavis laughed. "I tried to recruit her a while back, and she told me to stick it where the sun don't shine. I'd really hate for _you_ to do that, Raven. You could play the games you like playing, but for much bigger stakes, with much more difficult jobs, and for the King."

"So I'm not here just because Shaw fancies me?"

Mavis grinned broadly. "Oh he does, bless him. He gave me your name. But no, you're here because you're smart, because you don't mind getting your hands dirty, and because you're a damn good actress. I can think of three missions for you right now. None of them in Ironforge."

"Heh. You've been talking to Baron Samuel Goldenberg, then?"

"He thinks you're not completely useless, and might be suited to some menial job with a few years' training."

"Great," said Raven.

"Oh come on. He noticed you over the noise of how awesome he thinks he is. That's a ringing endorsement."

"I like Shaw's better," said Raven.

"Go get him," said Mavis. "By all accounts, he's a very considerate lover. He'll do whatever he needs to do, to make you happy. Just don't think it'll get you any favours."

"I've had a rough couple months," said Raven. "I could do with a bit of whatever makes me happy."

"I'm serious, Raven. I know of five girls he's slept with. Two of them are dead, one of them probably wishes she was. She's in some Light-bereft cage in Northrend and we can't get her out. There's lots of sides to Shaw's personality, and not all of them are nice to look at."

Raven nodded. Of course.

"Girl number one got shot dead on a spy mission into Silvermoon. Number two was bad. They planted some misinformation on her, and then sent her to be captured and have it tortured out of her. It took them three days to break her. _Expert_ torturers. She died thinking she'd betrayed us. Saved _thousands_ of lives, and she never knew."

"How do you know that?"

"One of the torturers was working for us. Consider that the end of sugar-coating. Nobody in our job plays nice."

"Hmm," said Raven. "You're really making me want to join up now."

"Oh, it's not all doom and gloom. Girl number four is on a long mission in Booty Bay, keeping an eye on the Goblins and the pirates, and loving every minute of it."

"And girl number five?"

Mavis leaned her head back against the roof of the cathedral. "Runs a small spice shop in Stormwind and does a little work for the recruiters."

Raven noted in the back of her head that this was the second time Mavis had managed to make her completely speechless. She closed her mouth.

"Well," said Mavis, "I was talking to him about this guy. Shaw said he was about as well-suited to the job as a Gnome in a Human's bed. Couldn't let that slide, now could I?" Mavis' eyes gleamed at Raven. "You're picturing yourself with a Gnome now, aren't you?"

"Trying not to," said Raven. "You're shitting me, right?"

Mavis shook her head. "We can, we do, we enjoy. It's agreed that the girls get a better deal out of it than the boys, but that's not stopping anyone." She gave Raven a very filthy grin. "Size doesn't matter. It's what we'll do to you."

"Throw in a couple of nice Gnome boys and I'll join," said Raven.

"What, Shaw _and_ a pair of Gnomish sex slaves? You do drive a hard bargain."

Mavis got to her feet and put her hand on Raven's arm. She gave her a little squeeze.

"I like you, Raven. I'm supposed to be all shadowy and mysterious about it and send you one of these bits of paper with a closed fist and so on and so forth, but the job's yours if you want it. Do you?"

Raven looked at Mavis for a long few moments.

"Yes," said Raven.

"Good," said Mavis. "Go talk to Renzik at Headquarters tomorrow. He'll know you're coming. Welcome on board." 

* * *

Thunderpetal and Huang were sitting in the flyer, doing their pre-flight checks.

Huang looked at the list. "Food?"

"Enough for fourteen days. Twice-baked cakes, packets of rice, fish cakes."

"Drink?"

"Enough brew for seven days, water for nine."

Huang nodded. "Let us hope it will not come to that. Clothes?"

"Heavy coats, scarves. It will be difficult to change in here, though."

"Navigation device?"

Thunderpetal pointed at the pendant hanging from the triangle that held the steering bar. "Have it."

"Drink for..." Huang gave Thunderpetal a Look. "Melodious Nightingale?"

"She is well provided for," said Thunderpetal. He had removed the original tank and replaced it with two of the barrels of whisky he had bought. In training himself up for the big flight, he had spent maybe one barrel in a week or two when he had barely allowed his feet to touch the ground. By his calculations, they could stay aloft for two weeks at least.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, I believe you may be endowing this kite with more of a spirit than it actually has."

"She will not disappoint me," said Thunderpetal. "Are we all strapped in?"

Huang pulled at the belt that would keep him in his seat even if Melodious Nightingale wanted to throw him out for disrespecting him.

"We are."

Thunderpetal looked round into Huang's eyes. "This is the last chance to get out if you want to."

"I do not, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. I did not travel with you all this time to abandon you now."

Thunderpetal looked at his friend. "Huang, you are my friend, and I am proud to call you that."

Thunderpetal raised his hand. Huang grabbed it. As Thunderpetal pushed the throttle forward, Melodious Nightingale roared into action, and heaved herself into the skies, singing of distant lands. 

 

"I spy, with my little eye..." Huang thought a moment. "Nothing."

"These are the Mists of Pandaria," said Thunderpetal. "I already tried to rise above them, but that makes Melodious Nightingale thirsty. We wish to conserve drink, so that we can travel further."

Huang bent over to the pendant, The yellow petal was still pointing ahead, without wavering.

"How far have we come?"

"We have flown for three days," said Thunderpetal. "That would put us... many miles from where we started."

"That is what you said last time," Huang pointed out. "It lacks progress. Not to mention predictive properties."

Thunderpetal said nothing. As far as he could see, they were still travelling in the same direction. The sun had risen and set roughly in the same place for each of the three days. Despite it all, he was still enjoying the feeling of flying. Melodious Nightingale's engine provided a nice sonorous background, and his mind was in a state he usually associated with deep meditation. He felt he could go on forever like this.

"Biscuit?" Huang put the bag under his nose.

Thunderpetal sighed, and had one. Huang had one as well. Huang raised a claw and knocked on the barrels of fuel behind him. One of the barrels was half full. Good. That meant that they would arrive in at most twelve days. Or fall down into the sea. Either way, there would be the prospect of change. Thunderpetal gave a satisfied nod, stared ahead into the mist, and let his mind float on the winds. 

 

"What do you mean, out of biscuits?"

Thunderpetal was dismayed. They'd packed several big bags. They had been eating their food sparingly, for Pandaren. The fish cakes were gone. Half of the rice was gone. Biscuits had been, well, food for thought mostly.

Huang held the bag upside down, and let it flutter away on the breeze. "I see this as a sign that we have almost arrived at our destination." Historical evidence was on his side. He had been on many a walk with Priestess Summerpetal, who had always contrived to have exactly the right amount of food for the trip. Navigation by nutrition had never failed him yet. Thunderpetal gave a nod.

"Let's see what is below us."

He pulled the bar towards him, and Melodious Nightingale dived towards the ground, sounding happy about the change. The song of her engine raised in pitch until they broke through the mist and could see ocean waves, as far as the eye could reach. Which, admittedly, was not very far, what with the mists.

"Look at how _fast_ we are going," said Thunderpetal. "Surely, our destination cannot be far off."

"Good," said Huang. "Rice cakes do not nourish thought as well as biscuits."

Thunderpetal pushed the steering bar forward. Melodious Nightingale flexed her muscles and started to climb up, up and up again till the ocean was lost in the grey mists. A quick check of the pendant showed they were still going in the right direction. 

"We cannot be far from our destination," said Huang. "It stands to reason." 

 

Huang raised his hand to knock on the barrel of drink for Melodious Nightingale. Thunderpetal grabbed his wrist before he could and shook his head.

"Our girl is thirsty, Huang. Do not remind her."

Huang sighed, nodded. Their brew had run out days ago and they were drinking water. All that was left of their food were a few packets of rice. Nobody knew what Melodious Nightingale was drinking. They didn't dare swoop down to see what was below. She might not get up again. Even Huang had to admit that she was not sounding as happy as she had when they left. Perhaps the strain of the journey was beginning to tell on her. She had carried them tirelessly across the skies. Her voice had never even stuttered. Jonno Smallfly had made her well. Thunderpetal ran his fingers over the steering bar.

"We are nearly there, my girl. Nearly there."

Melodious Nightingale coughed. Her voice, a constant in their days and nights for all this time, was silenced. Thunderpetal looked at Huang with fear in his eyes, as much for their own lives as out of concern for their beautiful flying machine.

"We have arrived, my friend," said Huang. "May the Jade Serpent grant that out landing will be soft."

Thunderpetal nodded. He took one last look at the jade pendant, then took it and put it in his pocket. No use looking at it anymore. With their engine gone, Melodious Nightingale quickly lost altitude, but in the everlasting mists, they could not see it. Huang pointed his ears forward. They could never have heard it over their own engine, but in the air was the heavy drone of engines much, much larger than theirs. They looked at each other, then steered towards the noise, which was below them, a little way ahead.

From out of the mists, a monstrous machine appeared before them, going roughly in the same direction they were travelling in. Thunderpetal's eyes narrowed and he tried to steer Melodious Nightingale to land on top of the other machine, a whale to their minnow. They almost made it. With a sickening crunch, Melodious Nightingale ran into the back of the larger creature. Thunderpetal ripped away his seatbelt and leapt. Huang did the same. Thunderpetal only just managed to grab the anchor chain with one hand, Huang's ankle with the other. They slid down the chain together and ended up sitting next to each other on the enormous anchor of the large vehicle. As they looked up, strange hairless faces looked down on them. Orders were shouted in a strange language, and they started to rise. Strong hands grabbed them, pulled them on board, and then flung them to the deck. The strange creatures searched them for weapons, then took them below, into a small room. The door closed behind them.

Thunderpetal sat down on the floor. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"Farewell, my Melodious Nightingale," he whispered. "may the Red Crane preserve your memory." 

 

"You've caught _what_?"

"Bears, Ma'am. Black and white bears. They appear to be intelligent, wearing clothes, but they don't speak Common."

"We can hardly expect that, Sergeant." Captain Delora Lionheart sighed. "Well, we'll sort them out when we reach dry land."

"They may be Horde, Captain," said the sergeant. "Maybe we'd better just toss them over the side."

"You don't know that, Sergeant. And in any case, they would be prisoners of war if they were. Killing prisoners of war is not what we do. Not in the Alliance, and _certainly_ not on board the Skyseeker. Dismissed."

"Yes Ma'am." 

* * *

Griggin looked round the table at the faces. Lenna, Bieslook, Trixie, Nix, Interalia. Interalia had Aubrey on her arm, making tiny noises. Cups of coffee, tea and mugs of chocolate were on the table. Lenna had brought out the old game. Bieslook, being the youngest player, had started at Oakwood. Everybody had chosen their favourite starting positions. Nobody except Bieslook was really concentrating on the game.

"Oval. Shunt me and you're dead," said Trixie.

"Would if I could. Green park," said Nix.

"Earl's Court," said Griggin. "Extra busker for downward escalator." He took a red marker from the bowl and placed it in his reserve. "Pass. Has your assignment come through, Trixie?"

"Yeah," said Trixie. "Starting next Wednesday."

"Queen's park," said Lenna. "I saw Mustrum in the bank today. He nodded at me."

"Bond street," said Interalia. She turned over one of the stack of cards. "Oh great. Trip hazard. I thought we weren't playing those?"

"Turnpike lane," said Bieslook. "Watch out Lenna."

"They want me to stay over the weekend the first two weeks, but after that I can come home. Elephant and castle. Change for Bakerloo. Richard's _dad_?"

"Ye gods," said Nix. "Next thing you know, he'll be here asking to borrow cups of sugar. Charing cross. Am I skipping a turn Mum?"

"Yeah." Lenna pulled out a card, showed it briefly then put it on the discard pile. "Isn't it lovely to be seen as a Gnome again?"

"Taking disabled access," said Griggin. "Good service on Hammersmith and City. Baker street. Can't really argue with his aversion to Warlocks. I'm not exactly happy with them myself."

"Overground is on, right?" Lenna moved her marker. "Euston. Anyone shunting me?"

"Me," said Bieslook. "Down to Bank."

"Right." Lenna moved her marker again. "Pass. Mr. Sparkbolt will be in the family. Let's try and get on. Nix? What is this I hear about our old house?"

"It's still up for rent," said Nix. "Too strange a shape for everybody."

"Nix put in an offer," said Interalia. She counted everybody's buskers. "Odd. Good. No tripping. Holborn. Just to see if they'd take it. They did. A little money is better than no money."

Griggin looked at Nix with a look of both pride and sadness.

"I think I left a screwdriver under the floor boards there. See if you can find it."

"King's cross," said Bieslook. "I have three buskers. Anyone want to try?"

Nobody did. Bieslook watched Lenna's piece with eagle eyes.

"Charing cross," said Trixie. "Good service on the Northern line."

"That's a triple cross," said Bieslook. "I get another turn. Use all my buskers to walk across to Euston... Mornington Crescent!"

Bieslook looked round, surprised to see everybody so sad. Interalia ruffled her hair.

"Well done Squirt. Anyone for more coffee?"

"Chocolate please!" 

* * *

Raven stepped off the Tram in Ironforge. For the occasion, she'd been teamed up with a short-tempered Dwarven rogue woman named Edda. Raven was sure that once she'd peel away that rough outer shell, through sheer charm and love, she'd find an equally rotten core inside. Together, they walked along the way to the Gates, and past the tavern.

"Got yer gloves? Ye'll want gloves for cleanup duty. Some of them have maggots in."

"Lovely," said Raven.

"Grumbling about the job? Everybody starts doing these jobs. Do you good. Builds character."

Raven said nothing. Edda opened the door to the room Raven knew well. She'd been told that the Baron had used this room to dump all the bodies. They walked into the wardrobe, down the stairs. Raven coughed at the smell. Edda heard her, laughed and breathed in deep.

"Bout a week old. Good. Not enough time to get runny. They're giving you an easy job to start with."

"I'll remember to thank Renzik," said Raven.

"What did ye expect, ye long-legged pansy? Go undercover as some Blood-elf princess and have them feed ye grapes?"

They reached the room in which they'd left Baron Goldenberg to get on with it. Raven lit a few torches and looked over the sad remains of what had once been the terror of the Old Barracks. She smiled to herself as she saw that the blonde girl she'd let go was not among them. Sensible people deserve to live. Maybe, she'd end up somewhere nice.

Edda pulled out a few burlap sacks and a large meat cleaver. She walked over to the nearest corpse and pulled it into the middle of the room.

"I chop, you pack. Next one, _you_ chop." 

 

"At the _joints_ , ye sissy. Put some back into it."

Raven said nothing, and slashed the cleaver into the shoulder of a woman who'd once tried to steal her daggers from her. She hadn't tried twice, after Raven offered to show her how to use them. Raven couldn't help grinning at the irony. I'll cut you to pieces if you cross me again. And here she was. Not as easy as she thought it would be.

"Yer lucky they're dead. I've had to clean up after some stupid git who didn't make sure afterwards. Started twitching after I got his arm off. Stopped when I got his head off."

"Yeah, bless that Goblin's little green socks."

"Shut up and get on with it. Like I said, _everyone_ starts doing the dirty jobs. Infiltrating Blood-elf brothels comes later when you've earned the privilege. I know your sort. Seen dozens of 'em pass through the Fourth Finger."

"And _you_ are still here," said Raven, to herself. She sat up. "You mean to say that this _isn't_ what Blood-elf princesses do? Damn you Renzik, you _lied_ to me!" 

 

Raven and Edda loaded the bags of remains into a cart. Edda took the time to point out the water-proof lining of the sacks so that the blighters wouldn't ooze through. Thanks sister. Edda pulled the cart to one of the smelting rooms, and opened the door. To Raven's amazement, sitting on a chair with Schmuÿle standing behind him, was Baron Samuel Goldenberg. Edda nodded at him and opened the door to the incinerator. She started to toss bags in, grinning.

"The smelters have been complaining about impurities. If they only knew."

The Baron gave Raven a sharp-toothed smile. "Good morning, Miss Raven. You'll be pleased to know that Schmuÿle and I have finished our job. The Old Barracks gang is no more. We will be returning to Everlook this afternoon."

Raven looked at the Baron. He seemed to be expecting something.

"Thanks?"

"Don't mention it," said the Baron. "In fact, to show you that there are no hard feelings, we have left you a present. It's in the next room. Make sure that you dispose of it properly when you are finished with it. Come on, Schmuÿle. You too, Miss. I believe our young friend wishes to be alone with this one."

"Bloody pussy footin' if ye ask me," said Edda. 

 

Raven found herself alone in the room, wondering. She opened the steel door to the next room. In the shadows, something was moving. Raven's eyes went cold. She grabbed it, and dragged it into the light. It was a man, hands and feet tied to a chair. With a grunt, she pulled the chair upright, and kneeled in front of him. His face was bloody. His clothes were torn. Cuts on his chest had stopped bleeding and congealed blood stuck to him.

"Hello Baltar," said Raven.

Baltar gave a startled snort, looked at her. His eyes opened wide, and he started to shake.

"Remember me?" said Raven. She pulled out her black knife. "Remember _this_?"

Baltar struggled to speak. "Please... I'm sorry. I'm..."

"Bit late," said Raven.

Baltar's eyes closed. "I'm sorry. Please..."

There was a sound like trickling water. Raven sniffed, looked down. A small stream of liquid ran from the leg of the chair. Baltar's breath came in gasps.

" _Please_..."

Raven closed her eyes. She took a long, slow, deep breath to stop herself from shaking. Quietly, she got to her feet, stepped behind Baltar. Almost gently, she put her hand on his head and pushed it down. 

 

Raven closed the door behind her. Edda had gone. Only the Baron and his servant were waiting for her.

"That was quick," said the Baron. "Where is he?"

"In the incinerator," said Raven.

"I would have thought you might have taken a little more time with him. As it is, Schmuÿle took longer."

Raven turned a cold stare to the Baron.

"What were you expecting me to do? Cut his fingers off one by one? Put his eyes out? Cut his nuts off? Make him eat them?"

"You might have. Do you think he was going to spare _you_ at the last moment? We have to take our little pleasures where we find them, Miss Raven."

"That's not what I'm about, little man. Are we done here?"

"We are," said the Baron.

"Good," said Raven. "I need a bath. And a stiff drink." 

* * *

Thunderpetal sat meditating in a small room. The deep drone of the huge machines engines resonated in his very bones. Huang was on the bed, asleep. They had tried banging on the doors. The hatch had opened, a face had appeared in front of it. It had looked round, then closed the hatch again. There was a tap in the corner that produced cool water. There was a bucket attached to the wall for obvious purposes. Now and then, someone outside pushed a plate under the door containing bread. Thunderpetal had pulled out the pendant, and they were still moving in the right direction. All he had to do was wait. Huang gave a sudden snort, then woke up and sat up, scratching his belly.

"Have our hosts tried to talk to us yet, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn?"

"They have not," said Thunderpetal. "They do provide us with enough bread. It is fresh, but it lacks variety."

"I hear the other guests have stopped shouting," said Huang. "I hope they have settled their differences to their satisfaction. I like this room. It has all that a monk needs for quiet contemplation."

"I would like a view," said Thunderpetal. "Or perhaps a small walk outside. I would like to know if the mists have parted yet."

"Perhaps if we put it reasonably to the creature who feeds us, he will let us out for a while," said Huang.

Shouts came through the door. Huang frowned.

"They should concentrate on what they have. We are warm, we are dry. We are not drowning. Food is provided. All this anger is not good for the Self. It stems from a desire for things one cannot have."

"They sound like what they want is their fingers round their hosts' throat," said Thunderpetal. "Most uncivilised. I am going to try to sleep for a bit." 

 

Huang looked up from his meditation. There had been a crash, and the sound of breaking wood a bit earlier. Voices in the hallway, by the sound of it warning each other to be quiet. Then, disappearing footsteps and... silence. Since there was nothing Huang could do about it, he had gone back to meditating. Now, though, there was a change in their world. Concentrating on it, he had noticed that the pitch of the engine noise had changed. Huang reached out and poked Thunderpetal, who was on the bed.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn? Something is happening. The voice of the great flyer is changing."

Thunderpetal sat up. he pulled out his pendant, and observed. His eyes opened wide.

"Huang? Look! We are changing direction. The yellow petal is moving. We must be going round in circles."

Huang looked.

"Interesting." He paused. "I believe that the floor is no longer level. Would you agree?"

The plate containing only a few breadcrumbs slid from one end of the room to the other. The sound of the engines increased in pitch, until it sounded positively... agitated. Huang and Thunderpetal looked at each other.

"I think the bedposts look very sturdy," said Huang. "I think I will hang on to one. Feel free to use the other." 

 

Thunderpetal opened his eyes. A ray of sunlight shone down through the boards of their room. He closed his eyes again.

"Hold still, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn," said Huang. "I am casting a spell of healing on you. You must have knocked your head on the wall."

Thunderpetal sat down on the floor so Huang could heal a head wound. He felt like a wave of _chi_ passed through him, flushing away his pain as it went.

"Thank you, Huang," he said.

They picked themselves up and looked around. Their room was at a strange angle. Light came through a slit between two boards that had been wrenched apart. Thunderpetal pointed.

"Shall we see if that will respond to a little force?"

"Flying crane kick?" Huang grinned at Thunderpetal. "I bet you a rice cake I can break that board before you do."

"You do not have a rice cake," said Thunderpetal.

"I do not need one," said Huang. He leapt up into the air and kicked the board. 

 

Thunderpetal ripped out the last few planks. The hole was now large enough for a well-fed Pandaren to squeeze out of.

"I owe you three rice cakes. You owe me one fish cake and a bag of biscuits." He pulled Huang up through the hole.

"Good," said Huang. "Let's find a civilised place where we can settle."

Thunderpetal looked round. This part of the woods was not as quiet as it might have been. Several strange creatures were fighting. There were green creatures fighting the pinkish brown creatures that had been their hosts. Meanwhile, bluish scaled people came out of the sea and attacked... anything that moved.

"Where do we go?" said Huang. "I would ask someone down there, but they seem... busy."

Thunderpetal pulled out the pendant. "I think we don't need to."

He looked round to Huang, but Huang wasn't listening. He was staring at the wreckage of their flying ship, at the woods round them. A look of anguish was on his face.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn... We are on the Wandering Isle. We stand on the shell of Shen-zin Su." Huang pointed to where the bow of the ship had buried itself. "And the bare-faced creatures have just stabbed him." 

 

With proper care, they went in the direction the pendant led them. They came to a fast-flowing river that they could not cross. They followed it downstream until they came to a bridge. On the bridge stood one of the green-skinned strangers they had seen fighting the brown-skinned ones. Thunderpetal and Huang walked up. They bowed to the stranger, then tried to cross the bridge. The stranger raised his hand to them, and growled. Thunderpetal waved his hands at him, smiled, and pointed to the other end of the bridge. He started walking across, but the stranger put his hand on his chect and shoved him back so that Thunderpetal rolled onto his bottom. Huang picked him up.

"He does not wish us to cross," said Thunderpetal.

"Nonsense," said Huang. "This is a misunderstanding. Allow me."

He walked up to the stranger, but before he could say anything, the stranger punched him in the face. Huang fell back, and rubbed his snout.

"You are right after all, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. He does not wish us to cross, and he will fight to make his point."

Thunderpetal scowled. "That is good. We can do that, too."

He slowly walked up to the stranger, eyes locked. The stranger growled at him, spoke words he couldn't understand. Probably something like 'Haven't you had enough yet?' The stranger's hand went to his belt and drew a sword. Thunderpetal's eyes narrowed. With a bellow, the stranger lunged forward. It wasn't a lethal attack, not yet. Thunderpetal dodged, spun round, kicked the stranger's wrist. The sword went flying. The stranger fell back to pick it up. Green eyes stared at Thunderpetal. He bared his fangs and spoke some words.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn? Catch."

Thunderpetal glanced over his shoulder and caught Huang's staff, his own staff, actually. The stranger bellowed and ran forward, slashing out with a disembowelling stroke. Thunderpetal leapt over the blade and thrust out his staff, catching the stranger in the chest, sending him backwards. The stranger didn't even slow down, and slashed out at him again. This time, Thunderpetal blocked at the start of the stroke, struck back with the other end of his staff, then a head shot with the top end again. The stranger cried out and retreated, pain and surprise flashing across his face before scowling again. Thunderpetal saw his muscles tense up to spring forward and responded immediately. He slid his staff through his forward hand, and hit the stranger's knee. The staff whirled round and hit the shoulder of the stranger's sword arm. It dropped down, useless, and the sword fell to the ground. Thunderpetal roared, and hit the stranger in the head, then stabbed him in the stomach. The bottom end of his staff hit the stranger's face, and he fell to his back. Thunderpetal bared his teeth, and raised his staff for the killing blow.

Huang grabbed the end of the staff. "He has had enough, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. Let's go."

Thunderpetal looked at Huang, then back at the stranger, who was looking up at him, panting, blood streaming from his face. He handed Huang his staff back. "Thank you for lending it to me, Huang."

Huang nodded. "There is _bambu_ growing up ahead. I suggest you cut a staff of your own. We may need it." 

* * *

The statues of the heroes of the Eastern Kingdom looked down on them. A mechanostrider, all washed, maintained, and fuelled up, stood still, engine ticking over. Trixie was hugging Lenna while Griggin, Nix, Interalia and Bieslook looked on. Aubrey was in the pram, asleep. Lenna looked at Trixie's face.

"Got everything?"

"Yeah."

"Change of clothes? Food?"

"Sonkies," whispered Nix. Interalia hit him.

"Yeah," said Trixie.

"Say hello to Richard for us, will you?"

"I will." Trixie looked round. "Well..."

"Get going," said Griggin. "You don't want to be late for roll call."

Trixie jumped onto the strider, waved once more and kicked it into gear. They looked at her as Trixie rode off in the direction of Goldshire. Griggin and Lenna turned to Nix.

"So you're off too?" said Griggin.

"Just picking up the keys, Dad. And getting in some of the bare necessities. We'll be back in a week for the rest of our stuff. Guess you'll be happy to have the room back."

"Going to be my private hobby room," said Lenna. "Finally, I'll have a place to put all my spellbooks."

"Great place for it," said Nix.

Lenna drew near to Griggin. "Well, be off then, the three of you. Sure you don't need me to help clean up the place?"

"House warming in two weeks," said Interalia. "Need major cleaning up after that."

Lenna sniffed. "You know that if you ever need help with Aubrey or anything, you've only to ask, don't you?"

Interalia walked over to Lenna and hugged her. "Yeah. When we need fire set to anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Next tram in ten minutes," said Griggin.

"Eager to get rid of us, Boilerman?"

Griggin looked a bit worried as Interalia put her arms round him, then gently patted her back.

"Be safe, children."

"No worries Dad," said Nix. "I'll be staying out of trouble, working on my masterpiece."

"Titansteel lunchbox," said Griggin, with a grin. "A study in over-engineering."

Nix held out his hand to Griggin. Then they changed their minds and hugged. There were smiles, and then Nix and Interalia pushed Aubrey in the direction of the Dwarven District.

Little Bieslook looked up at her foster parents. She pulled at Lenna's skirt.

"Lenna? Do you want some chocolate and biscuits?"

Griggin bent down to Bieslook. "We would _love_ some chocolate and biscuits."

"Only there aren't any biscuits, and I'm not allowed to use the oven. It's hot hot hot."

Lenna put her hand on Bieslook's hair. "Today, dear, we'll show you how to use the oven without burning yourself."

"Yay!" 


	17. Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, drastic methods are called for here, but killing Huang? It looks a bit like throwing the child away with the bath water, but then again, I am not a mystic Master like Shang Xi.
> 
> Well folks, it’s the last chapter. Hope you enjoyed the ride. Special thanks go to Jaelynn Evershade, who never failed to hit the “Like” button on my posts, and to Lindsey Batdorf, who made the beautiful title picture. Which means that I’ll be hiding away for a while while I produce the next story.
> 
> Until we meet again!

Thunderpetal held up the jade flower on its silver chain. The yellow petal pointed without fail at the roof of a temple in the distance. A path ran towards it. They had not been bothered by anyone since the strange man had tried to deny them passage over the bridge. All that was left was a long set of stairs leading up to the rose-coloured wood and shining gilt of the temple's roof. Thunderpetal had cut down a piece of _bambu_ to serve as a _bo_ staff. At the moment, he was using it to lean on. His legs were weary now that the end of his journey was in sight. The doors of the temple were open. Thunderpetal held out a claw to Huang.

"We have arrived, my friend. By rights, we should be dead, yet here we are. Without you, I would never have done it."

Huang looked at the sky. "It looks like rain. Let's get inside." He grabbed Thunderpetal's hand. "Our path has been an interesting one. I have gained much wisdom and experience from it." His eyes gleamed under his hat. "Mainly, to run away fast whenever you start to explain one of your crazy ideas."

Thunderpetal laughed, slapped Huang's shoulder and walked into the temple. They looked round in awe. Whoever had built this temple had not squandered gold on precious stone or metal, but the craftsmanship was superb. The central piece of the temple was a large statue of a long-bearded Pandaren monk riding a turtle. In one hand, he held a parasol, in the other a lantern. Close by a Pandaren-sized water jug sat an old monk. The hair on his snout was grey, and his robes were blue, embroidered in white. His hands were in his lap, and his eyes shone brightly at Thunderpetal.

Thunderpetal stood before the monk and bowed deep. "Sir. My name is Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, and this is Huang. We have come through the Mists of Pandaria, from the Jade Temple, in search of Master Shang Xi."

"And now, you have found him," said Shang Xi. "You have travelled far. Your need must be great, and your companion faithful, to have come all this way. I have had signs of your coming."

"You are correct on both counts," said Thunderpetal. "I bring news of Bao Yu."

"Do you now?" Master Shang Xi looked at Thunderpetal with a kind light in his eyes. "News of her would be news indeed. What do you have to tell?"

Thunderpetal lowered his eyes. "Master, Lorewalker Stonestep tells me that she passed away a few years ago, peacefully, holding this jewel in her hand." He pulled out the jade flower and held it up. The yellow petal pointed straight and true at the Master's heart. Shang Xi took it out of Thunderpetal's hand, reached into his robes and took out an identical necklace. As he spun them both on their chains, the yellow petals pointed at the other jewel without fail.

"I knew of her passing, young monk," said the Master. "A vision was given to me, exactly as you describe. Three weeks ago, I observed the movement of that jewel, and so I knew. Only a Pandaren in great need would undertake such a perilous journey. Why do you seek me? I train monks in the arts of fighting, but in Pandaria, a thousand Masters could give you that wisdom. Why will no other Master do?"

Thunderpetal moved closer to Shang Xi. "Master, look into my eyes. Then, you will know what I seek, or I will know that even you cannot help me."

Master Shang Xi had to look only a moment. He nodded.

"The _Sha_ of Anger has grown strong within your Self. I cannot help you with that, but instead I can help you to help yourself."

Thunderpetal bowed his head. "I can only take what you are willing to give, Master. When the _Sha_ of anger first took hold in my Self, I almost... hurt my friend. I would rather die than risk that again."

"Help an old man to his feet," said Shang Xi, holding out his hand. They walked down the stairs. "Do not worry. At my age I simply take a moment to start. We will confront this anger within you, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. It will not be easy. Prepare yourself."

"Yes, Master," said Thunderpetal. 

 

Master Shang Xi took Thunderpetal and Huang to a cave at the end of a shallow pond. They entered, and the Master sat down on a stone. He made himself comfortable, and looked at Huang.

"Thunderpetal has named you his most trusted friend," said the Master. "What will you do for him?"

Huang looked at the Master. "I will do what must be done to bring peace into his Self."

Shang Xi's eyes wrinkled. "That is good to know. Léi-shēng Huā-bàn?"

"Yes, Master?"

Shang Xi pointed at Huang. "Kill him."

Thunderpetal's mouth fell open. "Master, what is this madness? Huang is the last person in this world I would wish harm."

"I will allow him to defend himself," said Master Shang Xi. "One of you will not leave this cave."

"Master..."

As Thunderpetal prepared to explain what exactly he thought of this plan, there was a small cough at the entrance. They looked. In the entrance stood a woman. Her fur was of the purest white, contrasting with incredibly bright green eyes and deep black hair, which she wore in a long ponytail.

"Aysa," said Shang Xi, a fond look in his eyes. "What a pleasure to see you. What brings you here?"

"I seek the wisdom in this cave. Never mind me, I will be at the shrine, meditating."

Thunderpetal pointed a finger at Shang Xi. "He wants me to kill my friend!"

Aysa shrugged. "Do what he says. He knows what he is doing. A pleasure to have met you both." She gave Thunderpetal and Huang a dazzling smile, kneeled in front of the shrine at the end of the cave and lit a few sticks of incense. She raised her face, closed her eyes.

Master Shang Xi looked at Thunderpetal.

"Attack. Do it now. My time is limited, and I still have things to do."

"I will _not_ ," began Thunderpetal. At that moment, there was a rustle of leaves at the door and angry voices. A horde of small plant-creatures came running in, heading straight for Aysa.

"Get them," said Shang Xi. "Do not let them disturb Aysa's meditation. When she comes here, it is important."

Thunderpetal liked these new instructions much better than the last, and attacked. The attackers were not strong, but there were many of them, and both Huang and Thunderpetal had their hands full. They fought side by side, with their backs towards the meditating woman. After what seemed an eternity, with wave after wave of plant-sprites coming in through the door, the fight ended, and they stood breathing hard. Thunderpetal's eyes turned to Huang, but he didn't know what to say.

There was a noise behind them, and they looked round to see Aysa standing there, arms crossed.

"Oh. You're both still alive. Why?" Her eyes fell on the vegetable carnage in front of her. "Ah. Did you two do that?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Huang.

"That was very kind, thank you. A shame you are going to die."

"Aysa..." Master Shang Xi tried to put a weary tone in his voice, but failed. "Stop interfering with my teachings. Have you found what you seek?"

"Yes, Master. I must be on my way now." Aysa smiled, waved, and ran out of the cave. 

 

"Well then," said Shang Xi. "Where were we? Ah. Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, attack."

"Master, I will _not_ attack my friend. I do not know what purpose you have, but..."

Thunderpetal was interrupted by a hard blow to the side of his head. He looked round to see Huang bearing down on him, with eyes filled with purpose.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, I am _done_ with this." Huang's staff shot out and hit Thunderpetal in the stomach. "Ever since the cursed Virmen attacked your farm, you have not been yourself." Huang's staff swept round, viciously fast, at knee level. Thunderpetal only just had the notion to leap over it. "And ever since, I have not been able to trust you." Huang's attacks grew both in speed and force. Thunderpetal could only just dodge the strokes aimed at his face. "Now do what Master says, because..." Huang leapt into the air, and his staff came down on Thunderpetal's shoulder. " _I want my friend back!_ "

Thunderpetal rolled onto his back, through and was back on his feet. With a shout, he stabbed out at Huang's midriff. Huang blocked, counter-attacked. Thunderpetal pushed Huang's staff away, and hit Huang with a fast reverse kick to the thigh. Huang stumbled back, recovering. Thunderpetal struck his fingers and Huang cried out and nearly dropped his staff. Holding one hand behind his back, he made his staff whirl round his body, then stabbed out at Thunderpetal with all his weight, _Chi_ and anger behind it. Thunderpetal roared, blocked the attack, and hit Huang's staff with a forceful double handed stroke. Huang's staff flew off to one side, clattering on the floor. Thunderpetal struck out again. Huang blocked with his fore-arm, preferring a broken arm over a broken skull. He cried out in pain, and his arm hung limp. Thunderpetal struck again, making Huang block with his hand. Then, he swept low, hitting Huang's leg. Huang went down on one knee, looked up at Thunderpetal, with nothing more to be done. Thunderpetal wound up, then struck down with a blow that would shatter Huang's skull.

The blow never connected. Thunderpetal looked up to see Master Shang Xi's staff blocking his, inches away from Huang's head.

"Step back! See!" Master Shang Xi's staff struck Thunderpetal, and knocked all the wind out of him. "See your enemy within."

Thunderpetal rolled onto his back. Floating above him, he saw... smoke, but it had more shape than smoke. He could recognise in the shifting shards of mist the shape of Virmen, of Huang, of Liu Flameheart, and... of himself.

"Do you see? Do you recognise this?"

"I..."

"Quick. Before it fades. You do not have so many friends that you can repeat this. Remember these images. They hold the key."

Thunderpetal looked, tried to burn the shifting images in his mind. Then, there was a breeze of wind and they blew away. Master Shang Xi bent down to him.

"Remember these shapes. Draw them if you have the skill. Meditate upon them. Those are the images you must confront, and dismiss. Do you see now why I could not put into words what you have experienced?"

"I do, Master," said Thunderpetal. "These shapes, they are different for everybody."

"Precisely," said Shang Xi. "If you were to draw them in charcoal, they would appear as recognisable shapes only to yourself. If you were to describe them in words, it would seem like gibberish to anyone but you. Practice this skill always, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, until the day you die."

"Don't mind me," said Huang. "I can heal myself."

"Huang!" Thunderpetal bowed down over him. Green mist whirled round Huang's body as his healing magic did its work.

"Are you done, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn?"

"I am," said Thunderpetal, unsure of what else to say.

"Good," said Huang. "You owe me a few pints of brew." 

* * *

Raven walked out of the Deeprun Tram, looking at the rotating parts of the tunnel. She didn't know why this part of the tunnel was made of segments that rotated in opposite directions, whether it served a purpose, or whether it was simply a piece of art. Outside, she stood still. She should really find a place of her own. Violet had met a nice Pandaren boy just in from Stranglethorn Vale, and was giving her meaningful looks. Time to make herself scarce. She walked in the direction of the Pig and Whistle inn. She'd been paid. She could afford a bit of luxury. Someone walked next to her. Raven didn't have to look.

"Hello Mr. Shaw."

"Hello Miss Raven. I hear you completed your first job. Everything went smoothly, I trust?"

Disgusting, filthy, depressing, thought Raven. "Very smoothly indeed," she said.

"Good, good," said Shaw. "Are you hungry?"

Raven glanced at Shaw. "Maybe."

"Perhaps a little run will serve to give you an appetite?"

"Are you asking me out to dinner, Mr. Shaw?"

"I most certainly am, Miss Raven. Follow me if you are interested."

Shaw broke into a light trot. Raven sped up as well. He disappeared into the first alley he could see, and jumped up. As Raven followed him up to the roof, she couldn't help but admire the way the man moved. He might be Management, but he'd definitely kept in shape. She could also appreciate some of the hard muscles that allowed him to climb up like that. They ran over the rooftops towards the harbour, and dropped down on one of the turrets of an out of the way piece of the city wall. Shaw pulled out a bundle of keys, and opened a trapdoor leading to a ladder.

"Ladies first."

"Who are you calling a lady?" said Raven. She climbed down the ladder while Shaw locked the trapdoor. It wasn't completely dark, and a few minutes later, they were at the bottom of the shaft. There was wet sand on the bottom. Shaw pointed, and Raven walked forward carefully.

"Three-hundred yards," said Shaw. "You'll see light at the end. Step on it, Miss Raven."

Raven ran down the tunnel. As her eyes got used to the darkness, her confidence grew. This was obviously some sort of escape route. The tunnel ended abruptly in a shaft leading up.

"Up here, Miss Raven."

Raven climbed up the steps, with Shaw following her. She realised that he now had the same kind of view she had enjoyed earlier. Oh well. Only fair.

"Oh," said Raven.

"What?"

"No more steps."

"And?"

Raven put her feet on opposite sides of the shaft. She worked herself up for maybe twenty yards or so. She felt a door behind her. Shaw handed her up a bunch of keys.

"You drop them, you go get them," said Shaw.

The second key Raven tried fit, and the door opened.

"Catch," said Raven, and dropped the keys.

Shaw caught them, and put them away. "Smartarse."

"Thanks for noticing."

Raven crawled forward through a narrow pipe, until she came to a grille. It had a handle, and she could open it. She dropped down into a dark room with a stone floor. A trickle of light came through a closed shutter. She stepped aside and watched Shaw drop next to her.

"What is this place? Dumping ground for flunked rogues?"

Shaw laughed. "SI:7 safe house. This is where we put people when we don't want anyone to hurt them."

"Bit late now. There's nobody left."

"You had a nice run through Westfall. Don't tell me you would have preferred this? I mean..." Shaw took off his pack and put it on the table. He grinned at Raven. "Apart from the company, of course, this place has little to commend itself."

"The company? One of the most dangerous assassins in Stormwind?"

"I'll give you that. There's precisely three people better than I am. They are scary bastards. I send them on the most dangerous missions, and they just keep coming back."

Shaw walked over to the wall and lit a gas torch. Raven looked round the room. Table. Bed, single. Latrine. If the alternative was being shot or stabbed, it was comfortable enough.

"Where are we? I think we went south, but..."

"South west," said Shaw, walking over to the small window. He slid it open. "Come and see."

Raven stepped up to the window, aware of how close together they were standing. She looked out. Her mouth fell open, and she held her breath. It was impossible to resist. She had to say the word.

"Gold," Raven whispered.

"Yes," said Shaw. "I told you it was a safe house."

Raven didn't blink. On the other side of the wall were bars of gold, neatly stacked. Barrels filled with gold coins. Stacks of gold. Pots _made_ of gold, filled with gold. She looked at Shaw.

"Don't tell me you can get in there from here."

"You most certainly can. Open that door. Help yourself." A very subtle smile played on Shaw's face. "See what happens."

"We could split," said Raven. "Stranglethorn is nice. I could get a nice even tan there. You could see if I missed any bits."

"There is not enough gold in the world to buy me into the place where I am now," said Shaw. "There is no better place in the whole of Azeroth." he walked back to the table and opened his pack. "For example, I get to take attractive women to dinner in unlikely places. Do you like Pandaren food?"

"Love it," said Raven. 

* * *

Thunderpetal sat in a quiet place, nearby the Temple of the Five Dawns, and looked inside his mind. Master Shang Xi had told him to picture it as a great room, with doors leading off into different places. The room of his mind was mostly a quiet place, filled with the smell of cooking, the call of birds, the rhythm of flails pounding the corn. Thunderpetal's Self stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, looking down on a small campfire. Black smoke rose from the campfire, and the smoke looked back at him. This was not a properly made cooking fire. There were no rocks round it to stop it from spreading, and the grass around it was dry. Still, his eyes were on it now. If the fire spread, and the smoke grew, he could stamp on it and put it out. But never the whole fire. If he did, it would simply spring up somewhere else. Also, and the thought made Thunderpetal uneasy, he might _need_ this fire some time. He pointed at the fire, the smoke.

"Behave now," said Thunderpetal.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. The pleasant lands on the back of Shen-zin Su greeted him. Next to him sat Huang, like him, deep in meditation. There was a small noise behind him, and Thunderpetal looked round to see Master Shang Xi. He had his staff in his hand, and a bag over his shoulder.

"Huang? Léi-shēng Huā-bàn? I am going on a journey, to the Wood of Staves. Do you wish to come with me? You may learn something. Also, in these uncertain times it is good not to travel alone."

Thunderpetal got to his feet. "I will come, Master."

"And so will I," said Huang.

They walked along the road to what Master Shang Xi called headwards. "The Great Turtle does not always swim in the same direction, my friends. At the moment, he is heading to the North. It is a wonderful thing to see the sun rise in one place on one day, and in another the next."

Master Shang Xi walked on, taking his time to see all the beauty around him. Huang and Thunderpetal walked on either side of him, keeping a sharp eye out for anything wanting to harm the Master. They came to a small village, but Shang Xi only waved at it.

"I have seen them many times. If I go there, they will want me to stay for dinner, and my time is short. This way, my friends."

Shang Xi led them to a quiet place among the reeds. He recognised it as the place where he needed to be, though to Thunderpetal, it looked no different from any other place. Shang Xi sat down, and breathed in deep. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the flower necklace. He frowned at it. Then, he smiled at Huang and Thunderpetal.

"This place is where I went to talk to Bao Yu. It seems strange that she is not in her usual place. It will not be long now before we meet again."

Thunderpetal's eyes turned to Huang. Huang gave Master Shang Xi a long look, until he turned away from them, eyes far, far away. Huang shook his head sadly at Thunderpetal.

"Excuse me?" A young woman walked up to the master. "Are you Shang Xi?"

"Yes, my girl," said Shang Xi. "What can I do for you?"

"Ji Firepaw sends me," said the woman, with a bow. "My name is Sweet Fragrance of Violets. What is your need, Master?"

Shang Xi pointed a paw at the forest. "I must perform a ritual, for which I need some of the charms you can find in these woods. Please find some for me. Eight will suffice."

Sweet Fragrance of Violets bowed to Shang Xi. "It shall be done, Master."

She turned round and ran into the forest. Shang Xi gave Huang and Thunderpetal a look. "Please follow her, and see that she comes to no harm. I feel that Sweet Fragrance of Violets has a great role to play in the coming events."

"Yes, Master," said Thunderpetal. He and Huang ran into the forest.

Just as they spotted Sweet Fragrance of Violets reverently removing a charm from one of the trees, they were attacked. The creatures that attacked them were forest sprites, similar to the ones they had fought in the cave of meditation. These sprites were far more vicious, and clouds of anger surrounded them. Huang and Thunderpetal fought back to back. There was a loud cry, and Sweet Fragrance of Violet came flying at them in a flying kick that sent one of the creatures flying. When it landed, it stayed down. The three of them managed to kill all the sprites that attacked them. Then, they stood there, taking deep breaths. Sweet Fragrance of Violets looked at Huang and Thunderpetal.

"Uh, boys? What are you doing here? It's dangerous. I've been trained to fight by Aysa Cloudsinger herself, but you guys?"

Thunderpetal opened his mouth to say something, but Huang stepped forward and bowed.

"You have our thanks. If not for you, we would surely have come to great harm. Do you mind if we walk with you, for our safety?"

Sweet Fragrance of Violets pulled a face. "Well, I'm supposed to be working for Master Shang Xi. But I suppose I can't just leave you here. Just try not to attract attention, will you?"

Huang grabbed his fist, and bowed his head to Sweet Fragrance of Violets. "Thank you, miss..."

"My friends call me Violet." 

 

Thunderpetal and Huang found Master Shang Xi where they left him, and Violet presented the charms. Shang Xi laid the charms out in a circle and performed a small ritual. When it was complete, he gave a small nod.

"Sweet Fragrance of Violets, you have lived all your life on the shell of the Great Turtle. But now, Shen-zin Su is ill, and we are all in danger. You were the one who found the Elemental Spirits. They are gathered now, together with Ji Firepaw and Aysa Cloudsinger. Go to them now, and speak with Shen-zin Su, that you may heal him. The fate of the world now lies upon your shoulders. Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, Huang, go with her. Aid her in whatever way you can."

"Master?" Thunderpetal hesitated. "Are we to leave you alone here?"

"No, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. It is I who will leave you. My time is come. Farewell, and remember what I have taught you."

Master Shang Xi closed his eyes. As they watched, breathlessly, his body became transparent, then faded into nothing. Thunderpetal stood still, watching. He wished to wave a paw through the place where the Master had been, but thought it disrespectful. There was a hand on his shoulder, and Violet looked at him with a kind eye.

"He taught me how to confront my inner anger," said Thunderpetal. "I have come here on the wings of the dead, led by the dead. Why do I still live?"

"To that, there is no answer," said Huang. "Miss Violet? Please lead on."

Violet put her hands on Thunderpetal's shoulders, looked into his eyes, then gave him a hug.

"I'm glad you are still alive," said Violet. She smiled, turned round and ran in the direction of Shen-zin Su's head, leaving Thunderpetal rather dazed until Huang punched him in the shoulder.

They ran after Violet. 

* * *

The flight was quiet, apart from the occasional rush of flame from the heater. Aysa Cloudsinger was at the controls. She made it look like she was steering the balloon with her mind, even while she was bickering with Ji Firepaw. They had obviously known each other for a long time. Violet was glued to the side of the basket, eyes wide open in wonder at the sight of the world slowly disappearing into the distance. Huang stood next to her, pretending to pray, but ready to grab her if she'd lean over too far.

Thunderpetal looked up at a shout from Aysa Cloudsinger.

"Shen-zin Su, we are the descendants of Liu Lang. We've sensed your pain, and we want to help. What ails you Shen-zin Su? What can we do?"

Thunderpetal's mouth fell open. What he'd thought to be a mountain, slowly opened an eye, larger than a house, larger than a city. Then, in Thunderpetal's mind, there was a voice deeper than anything he'd ever heard.

"I am in pain, but it warms my heart that Liu Lang's grandchildren have not forgotten me. There is a thorn in my side. I cannot remove it. The pain is unbearable, and I can no longer swim straight. Please grandchildren, can you remove this thorn? I cannot do so on my own."

"Of course, Shen-zin Su!" said Aysa, "But your shell is large, and I do not know where this thorn could be."

Shen-zin Su's voice sounded laboured. "It is in the forest where your feet do not walk. Continue along the mountains and you will find it."

Aysa raised her voice over the wind. "We will find it, and we will remove it. You have our word!"

Aysa pulled the cord. The flame under the balloon roared, and the balloon shot up, found the right gust of wind and sailed off.

"The forest where your feet do not walk," said Ji Firepaw. "A nice little riddle. Someone ought to explain to Shen-zin su the points of the compass. It would make our dealings with him much easier."

Violet looked at Aysa. "But _you_ know what Shen-zin Su meant, don't you?"

Aysa shook her head, making the balloon go higher and higher. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"But then... Why didn't you _ask_?"

Aysa looked at Violet. "Sweet Fragrance of Violets, Shen-zin Su thought we were worthy of his words. For him even to gaze upon you is an honour. Each word from such a being is a precious gift. When we do not understand, we do _not_ go: Huh?" Aysa's smile faded. "Also, it hurts him to speak. We must find this 'thorn', though we may be searching for a while."

Thunderpetal looked at Huang, and raised a hand. "Mistress Cloudsinger? I believe we have the answer. We may have arrived on this... thorn."

"You stuck the thorn in Shen-zin Su's side?" Ji Firepaw snorted. "That wasn't very clever. It's all your fault then? Good. I will find you a pair of tweezers and leave you to sort it out."

"Shut your mouth Ji," said Aysa, without looking at him. The way she said it suggested that it was a familiar phrase. "Where is this thorn, then?"

Thunderpetal looked round. In the far distance, he could see the roof of the temple. He stood with his back to Shen-zin Su's head, pointed one hand at the temple, the other hand at the place where he remembered coming ashore.

"That way." 

 

The basket tilted worryingly as all the Pandaren leaned to look.

"By the beard of my Ancestor," said Ji Firepaw. "I should have known that Shen-zin Su's idea of a thorn is not the same as mine. We're going to have some trouble getting that out."

"We cannot do this by ourselves," said Aysa. "We will need the help of many. It will require us to put all of our heads together."

"Speaking of heads," said Ji Firepaw. "Where is Jojo Ironbrow?"

"Breaking things," said Aysa. "Which was _not_ what I was thinking of."

"I brought him a bunch of stones," said Violet. "He broke those with no problem. This... ship is made of wood. He may be able to help."

"Brute force will not help us here," said Aysa. "We may end up doing more harm than good. I think we need to talk to Elder Shaopai. He will know what to do."

"Then I will talk to him," said Violet, strapping on one of the parachutes that were part of the balloon's equipment. "He's in the village below, isn't he?"

"Mandori village, yes," said Ji.

"Alright then," said Violet. Before anyone could speak, she climbed onto the side of the balloon, blew them a kiss, and jumped down with a delighted scream. A few anxious heartbeats later, the parachute opened and Violet slowly descended towards the village.

"Hah! I _like_ this girl," said Ji Firepaw. "Doesn't sit still, but gets on with it."

Huang handed Thunderpetal a parachute, but Aysa grabbed it.

"No. I'm setting down by the crash site. I'll need you two there. You've been there before."

"But Mistress," said Huang. "I fear for Violet's safety."

Aysa looked at the small spot of the parachute. "She'll be fine. She has a greater destiny than simply going splat on the floor." 

 

Aysa set down her balloon a few hundred yards from the wreck of the airship, threw out the anchor, and jumped out. Ji Firepaw jumped out, waved, and ran off into the woods.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn, Huang, follow me. We are going to have a word with the sailors of that vessel."

A little way away, the strangers had set up a camp. Healers were busy tending to injured sailors. Huang saw that some had stab wounds as well as bruises and broken bones from being tossed about. Without a word, he walked over to the most severe casualty that wasn't being seen to and went to work. Hairless faces looked at him strangely, then saw what Huang was doing, and left him to it. Meanwhile, Aysa Cloudsinger was talking to the woman who was in charge. They were mainly using their hands and feet, as the language sounded to him like yowls punctuated by rolling noises. By means of pointing and waving, the head woman made it clear that there were many wounded, that some of her sailors were still swimming or drowning in the sea, and that supplies were low. Finally, Aysa nodded and turned to Thunderpetal.

"These are the _Chiu-man_ ," said Aysa. "Huang is doing what he can healing their wounded. Could you see if you can find some of their supplies?"

"Yes, Mistress," said Thunderpetal. 

 

They had a rather busy afternoon. Thunderpetal dragged three half-drowned _Chiu-man_ out of the sea, and collected all kinds of stuff from the water. To make matters worse, nightmarish creatures had emerged from the sea to prey on the _Chiu-man_ and their supplies. Thunderpetal had needed to come to Aysa's aid as she fought one of them. They had finally defeated the beast and its minions, and Aysa had leaned on his shoulder and given him a grin, a memory that would help him through many a difficult moment. Thunderpetal was sitting by the fire, clutching a large mug of tea Huang had given him. A familiar voice called out to him.

"Léi-shēng Huā-bàn! So good to see you. Are you alright?"

"I am good, Miss Violet. Just tired. How are you?"

"All good," said Violet. "I'm looking for Mistress Aysa. Do you know where she is? I've got... news for her."

Thunderpetal looked at Violet's face. She looked a bit worried. No doubt Mistress Aysa could help her with whatever the matter was. He pointed a hand towards the tent, and Violet ran off. Thunderpetal bent over his tea. It was strong, and had an entire beehive's worth of honey in it. Huang knew how to restore people's spirit.

"HE WANTS TO DO _WHAT_?!"

Thunderpetal looked up. Mistress Aysa was clearly not pleased with something. She was pulling up her sleeves, with an expression like thunder on her face.

"Violet. Huang. Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. Follow me. We have to knock some sense into that idiot's head." 

 

"Well then, _you_ come up with a better plan. Don't hang about, though. Time's a wasting."

Aysa sniffed, and walked over to the wreckage. Ji Firepaw sat down on the ground with a thud. He looked up at Thunderpetal.

"I have watched her train, you know," said Ji, softly. "Her form is _perfect_. When she assumes the stance of the crane, there isn't a single muscle in her body that is not under her conscious control, either tensed or relaxed. If she was fighting me, I'd be powerless to resist because I'd want to watch her." Ji gave a low rumble. "And still, she's just standing there doing _nothing_!"

Aysa looked over her shoulder. "I'm _not_ doing nothing. I'm thinking. Try it some time."

"Pah. Thought of anything good yet?"

Aysa turned round, shoulders sagging.

"No. I suppose your idea..."

"Excellent," said Ji. "The explosives are stacked. Sweet Fragrance of Violets? Would you do the honours?"

Ji pulled a burning stick out of the fire and offered it to Violet. Violet looked at Aysa. Aysa tilted her head a bit, and Violet took the torch from Ji's hand. She walked onto the ship, lit the fuse, and came running back as though the _Sha_ of Anger, Doubt, Fear, Hate and Discontent were all after her.

"Get _down_!" 

 

Aysa Cloudsinger looked on in horror. Red blood was flowing like a river into the sea, and the ground was shaking. Shen-zin Su was dying, and _they_ had done it. The shipwreck was gone. Thunderpetal looked round to see several of the _Olu-ku_ walk towards them, they were wearing robes and staffs were in their hands. They would never be able to defeat them all. From another direction came a line of _Chiu-man_ , looking grim-faced at the _Olu-ku_. Battle was about to be joined, more death upon a dying creature's back. Ji Firepaw ran forward and screamed.

"Do you have _healers_? Then _heal_ , you motherless bastards. _Heal_."

One of the _Olu-ku_ looked at the line of his enemies, then at the gaping wound in Shen-zin Su's side. He stood on the edge, raised his arms and magic flowed. At that, orders were shouted, and a line of healers, both _Chiu-man_ and _Olu-ku_ formed. All combined their strength.

There was a cry, and Thunderpetal looked to see the sea-creatures walk from the water and attack the healers. Easy prey. Thunderpetal rolled forward, and knocked the creatures back into the sea. Aysa Cloudsinger stood beside him. So did Ji Firepaw. So did several of the _Chiu-man_ and _Olu-ku_. Together they held back the attack until the sea once more ran clear. A great shiver went through the ground, and the sun moved in the sky as Shen-zin Su turned North. 

* * *

The bed, to be honest, was too small for two. If there were two of you, you'd have to lie very close together. What a bother. Raven had come out of the Tram needing a stiff drink, but this worked just as well. One of Shaw's arms was around her, the other hand was on her thigh, fingers slowly moving.

"Do all your new employees get this, Mr. Shaw?"

"Not from me personally," said Shaw. "But a thorough evaluation of their capabilities is an important part of the process. And I must say that thing you did just now was very good."

"Must have been fun with Edda."

She could feel him laughing more than hear it.

"Edda Flintforge is very good at what she does. Not many people can turn the scene of a bloodbath into a fresh clean room within the hour."

Raven turned round, so that his hand was now on her bottom, which was nice. She looked at his face from a few inches away.

"How about the girl you sent away to be caught?"

Shaw's face closed up as if a drawbridge was raised, doors closed and locked.

"Did Mavis tell you her name?"

"No."

"Good. Our people in Northrend are still safe because of what she told the enemy. She was a true hero. Better than me or you."

"Look. I get that I'm playing with the big boys now. And that whenever you send me on a mission, there's a good chance I won't be coming back. That's part of the game, and if I didn't like it I shouldn't have put my chips down. But if you ever try to pull a trick like that on me..." Raven touched Shaw's face. "I'll kill you."

"First, my dear," said Shaw. "You don't get to choose what missions I send you on. But leaving that aside, it's unlikely that you'd ever take orders directly from me."

Shaw's hand slowly slid up Raven's back, till his hand was on her breast, and his thumb was underneath. She knew he could feel her heart beating like that. You could kill someone by breaking her rib and pushing it into her heart. Raven felt her breath quicken, and a flutter in her stomach at the thought that she was in bed with a man who would kill her if he needed to. Their lips were almost touching.

"Anyway," said Shaw, "You wouldn't be suited to a job like that. You're not an assassin. You're going to do your stint of dirty work in the Fourth Finger, then move on to the Third, and once you're there, you'll never leave. You will love it there. Those stunning grey eyes are going to see things that the Horde really doesn't want them to, and there's nothing they can do about it."

"Good," said Raven. "Now that's out of the way, about that thing you mentioned."

"Yes?"

Raven rolled over on top of Shaw.

"Want me to do it again?"

"Oh yes." 

* * *

"There you go, Aubrey. Clean botty again. Time for your nap."

Interalia pulled the blanket over Aubrey, then picked up the lock box with Unpickable Lock Mark Twenty Eight. This one was important. Nix was going to use this on his masterpiece, the Titansteel Lunch Box. He was out in Northrend now, mining the titansteel. Interalia sat back in her chair. So far, she liked this place. It had once been an office, but Boilerman had turned it into a home. Some of the changes could still be seen. An OP-250 water heater, fed straight from a mountain stream. Far too many steam outlets, gas light everywhere. When they left, they had pulled out the mezzanine floors, but they had been left in a shed and Nix had put them back in so that they now had upstairs bedrooms for Aubrey and themselves. It was the nicest home she'd ever had, and it was hers.

Interalia had been a thief, then an intelligence officer or sneak for Big Lug over in Redridge, and now? A full-time mummy? Nix had told her no, and that as far as he was concerned, she had made his locks what they were as much as he had. Which was very nice of him. He'd made her a full partner in his business, which was also very nice of him, especially when he told her what some of his locks went for. And the silly git was still completely head over heels in love with her, which was beyond nice, bordering on 'Trusting Fool'. Didn't he realise that she was a rogue, a thief, and a pathological liar? Funny thing was, he did. And still, he trusted her.

Stupid git.

She hoped he was alright. 

 

Nix hefted his big bag of ore on his back. An amazing amount of ore went into making even just one bar of titansteel, and he'd been mining his fingers to the bone. He was now standing at the north bank of a small lake in the middle of a steaming hot jungle called Sholazar Basin. He was about to take the chopper to Hemet Nessingwary's base camp for the night. Another week or so, and he'd have exactly twice as much ore as he'd calculated he needed. It was easier to mine a bit more ore here, than it was to come back here once he'd run out. Buying the stuff on the auction house wasn't allowed, and there'd be a functionary looking at his fingers as he smelted every lump of metal.

"Nix Steambender! You Light-bereft little delinquent. What are you doing here?"

Nix stared at the flightmaster, looked better, then recognised...

"Marvin Sprocket."

" _Wobble_ sprocket if you please. I'm here incognito."

Nix laughed. "Who'd know it was you?"

Marvin slapped Nix' shoulder. "The authorities, actually. When I was doing my thing in Gnomeregan, I thought I'd drop the wobble for commercial reasons. How are you?"

"Um. Married, young daughter, working on my masterpiece."

"Good, good. Nice girl?"

Nix' eyes shone. "One of the nastiest you can imagine. One in a million. Best in the world."

"Well, I never would have expected that from you. Well done."

"Um yeah," said Nix. "Sorry about Gnomeregan and all that."

Marvin laughed. "I won't deny it, I had fantasies of kicking your little butts up and down all the ramps in the place. But I'm easy about it now. If you nasty gits hadn't driven me out of the place, then I would never have met my wife."

"Wife?" Marvin had been a dedicated bachelor. As far as Nix knew, he had been all his life. "Is she here?"

"Standing behind you," said Marvin. "Nix Steambender? Meet Tamara."

Nix turned round. Behind him stood a woman, with long brown hair, wearing a pair of overalls and an Arclight spanner in her hand. Even with the dark smudges of oil on her face, and the fact that she was, not to get racist about it, a _Human_ , she was actually quite beautiful, especially when she smiled. And she looked like she did that a lot.

"My," said Nix. "You're a tall one." 

 

At the top of the watchtower, with his back to the merlon, sat Richard Sparkbolt. Half sitting, half lying against him, with her head on his shoulder, was Trixie Steambender. They were watching the sunset. Normally, having been in Sentinel Hill this long, they would have been on their third round of love-making. But now, with Trixie actually staying here, they could give it a miss and actually enjoy each other's company. It was new, and in a way, exciting. Neither of them spoke. Nothing much to say that couldn't wait. Richard ran his finger through Trixie's pink hair. Trixie wriggled her shoulders a bit. Richard looked at her face. Her eyes were closed.

"Hey. Are you asleep?"

"No."

"Trix?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I know," said Trixie. "I love you too."

Richard pulled her a bit closer, wrapped his arms round her a bit tighter.

And that, apparently, was that. 

 

Griggin shut down the big OP-6000 boiler and de-pressurised it. Tests had been successful. He already had his first order for the thing. Apparently, they were going to rebuild the Old Barracks after knocking down what little of it remained. They needed hot water. Griggin had it. Nix had written that he'd met Martin out in Northrend, married to a _Human_. Of all the things Griggin had imagined Marvin might be doing, that definitely came last. He'd been to Ironforge for some parts and a cup of coffee with Interalia. Aubrey was growing. Apparently, she'd lifted her head and looked around. Soon, she would start rolling over. The old place looked good. Soon, it would no longer be Steambender Manor 2.1, but Shutfast Manor 1.0. Griggin had looked at Nix' designs. It was good for Nix to be worried about graduating, but Griggin didn't worry a bit.

He hadn't been in the second basement since they'd defeated Neera. The body would be long gone, dissolved into nothing as the spirit that inhabited it had dissipated. The memory never would. He hadn't done any magic since. Chief Warlock Sindala was giving him the time to work through the experience. He was good with that sort of thing. He'd have to go down there, eventually. He might not like it, but his mind was still connected to that part of the Twisting Nethers where Daemons lived. He had to keep his hand in, or Daemons would have him for lunch. Well, first, let's see about this pump.

There was a noise behind him, and then soft arms round his middle and Lenna's cheek rubbing against his.

"You need a shave," said Lenna.

"I'll see to it immediately," said Griggin.

Lenna did not let go. "They're all gone. Nix, Trixie, Interalia, little Aubrey, all gone."

"It was bound to happen some time," said Griggin. He gently stroked Lenna's hand.

"Even little Bieslook is off to school," said Lenna. "Until four. It's so quiet. Nobody in the house. Only you and me. I feel a bit sad about that, my love."

"Yes," said Griggin. "So do I."

"Bored feeling sad," said Lenna. "When was the last time we had cherries and icecream?"

Griggin thought back. "Surely, that was before Trixie. Was it before Nix even?"

"I think it was. In fact, I'm sure it was."

"Was it the time when you dropped..."

"Mm hmm," said Lenna.

"Into your..."

"Cold, cold, _cold_ ," said Lenna.

Griggin turned his eyes to Lenna's.

"Can you still do that thing with a cherry stalk?"

"Want to see me do it?" 

* * *

Thunderpetal walked up to Aysa Cloudsinger, in her tent on Little Pandaria, and handed her the scroll. She bowed her head as she accepted it.

"I believe you were right, Mistress," said Thunderpetal. "Master Ji Firepaw was being an idiot."

Aysa laughed. "Master Ji Firepaw _is_ an idiot. But on that day, his plan worked, and Shen-zin Su swims today because of it. May we never meet again before this war is over, and Alliance and Horde are enemies no more."

"That may be some time," said Thunderpetal.

"True," said Aysa. "I have a job for you and Huang. We have learned what we can by sitting here. We need to explore. Many of us have gone already. They are learning, and showing the Alliance that we are good friends."

"You wish me to seek wisdom, Mistress?"

"Yes. I would like you and Huang to go to a place called the Redridge Mountains, and learn of the ways of the people there, then write to me."

"It will be a pleasure, Mistress," said Thunderpetal. "How long will I be gone?"

"As long as you need, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn. There is no hurry. Life is to be savoured." 

 

Two Pandaren riding tortoises came trotting down the road from Stormwind, to a place called Goldshire. As Ni-chi had said, it had a bit of a reputation for sin and debauchery. Due to this and that, Thunderpetal and Huang were late, but the _Sha_ of Wanderlust had struck them deep, and they had decided to travel by night if they had to. Still, it was time for dinner, and Huang suggested seeing what the local cuisine was like. They got off their tortoises and stepped into the Lion's Pride Inn. They stood still. It was quite busy. The noise was ear-shattering, but so far, the mood seemed to be happy. People of all shapes and sizes were hugging each other, drinking, sitting on each other's lap in dark corners. Huang leaned over to Thunderpetal. He had to shout in his ear to make himself heard.

"I think the kitchen may be closed, and I do not think the drink here is brewed for flavour."

"Let's leave," said Thunderpetal.

They stepped outside, ears ringing.

"This must be what _Ni-chi_ was talking about."

"Yes," said Huang. "Mistress Aysa wishes us to study the ways of the Alliance people, but perhaps we should know of their normal behaviour before we can say what social rules are being broken here."

The door opened, and someone came staggering out, a half-full mug of vile liquor in her hand. From the descriptions, Thunderpetal recognised her as a _D'len-ai_ woman. She spotted them and threw her arms in the air, spilling drink all over the place.

"Pandaren! _Ni-hao_ " She took a few uncertain steps towards Thunderpetal, wrapped her arms round him, and closed her eyes. Thunderpetal looked at Huang.

Huang held his stomach and laughed. "How _do_ you do it, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn? Please tell me your secret."

"I... I don't know."

"Hmm," the Draenei woman said. "Furry toes. I love furry toes. They're so..." and she said a word in her own language they could not understand, but was certain to be nice.

"This woman has had too much to drink," said Thunderpetal. She started to slide down, and Thunderpetal could only just grab her under her arms to pull her up again.

Huang grinned. "Do you think?"

The Draenei rubbed her cheek against Thunderpetal's chest.

"Soft," she murmured. "Hmmm."

Thunderpetal pulled the woman up, and lifted her up in his arms.

"Whee," she said, and giggled.

"We cannot leave her like this, Huang. We must make sure she is well."

Huang gave Thunderpetal a look. "Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to do that, Léi-shēng Huā-bàn?"

Thunderpetal grinned. "Yes. I gained many wonderful new friends. Let's get her inside."

Huang put a hand on Thunderpetal's shoulder, and together, they carried their new friend into the tavern. 


End file.
